Superman is trying to contact his superego through his dreams. He flips a coin to call himself, the self he projects onto the world. A statue appears. It looks a bit like Aristotle, but with superman’s living eyes. Superman is in the statue. A small boy appears, superman is a bit annoyed at having his dream invaded. The boy tugs on his stony whiskers to lead him on an adventure.
They park in a muddy field. They are chased by a turncoat nanny/monkey butler, through unfeasible spinning rooms, and over bridges that become trees.
Returning to the car park, a helicopter is waiting. The chasing thing is now a nanny, returning home as it has forgotten something. It had arranged for the helicopter to be here. In the car park, two men talk. Children play in deep mud in a nearby field, unaware of the dangers. I walk with the two men, we talk of fatherhood and cars, and home built electric sitars.
I am holding a tiny dog. It’s body is ant-shaped and its head is obscured by a watch or clock stuck on top of its head. It is friendly, but vulnerable. I take it to a friends house, it is her pet. Inside we greet her cat and dog. Her rugby playing friends turn up. I leave, with pockets full of change.
I try to catch a bus, but have no idea where I am.
Wandering, I see a city centre building from a previous dream and head for that. There’s no direct route, and I’m not sure whether to head back to Crumpsall or further north, where my family are. There is no Internet in Crumpsall. This helps me decide.
It is the future. I am living in an old cottage, imaginatively titled “Old Cottage”. I live at number 4.
All around the cottage is a new development. As I go in, a delivery driver hands me a package for number 7, it contains developed films. I drop it off and head home. Inside number 4, I am sharing with a group of other old men.
They bicker about food. I escape to my room, I can play guitar here, undisturbed.
I am a teenager again. At school I try to explain my dreams. They all speak like the stupid people in the movie Idiocracy
. I use language they understand, and they laugh and are happy, I try to explain with more precise and descriptive language, and they all think I’m a faggot. I have a text with me, something I have dreamed, that I need to communicate. They are too stupid to understand.
Outside, I walk through deep dark mud with punk friends from the past, and Hawkind
play in the distance, on the grass.
leads me on a long walk around mystical pilgrimage sites. There’s a Wyvern Gate,
and a dilapidated monastery. I’m exhausted, but Kenneth wants to be out walking all day.
I lose Kenneth and chat with two young lads about how, when I was young, we had football pitches, and played outside. They can’t believe I did something so primitive, within living memory. I show them marks in the grass, where a football pitch once was.
I am in a dormitory. It has a pyramid roof, extending nearly to the ground. It is raining outside. I stand in a window, bathed by the rain. A voice announces “Time for the little sleep.” It’s cold, and other guys are asleep in chairs. I try to get some rest with the cold breeze on my wet face.
I am outside a friends place. She is inside arguing with her boyfriend. I am waiting to photograph the eclipse
. I am confused, there appears to be a solar and lunar eclipse happening simultaneously. I know that this is impossible. I take photos anyway.
I am visiting Jimmy Savile. He is old and ill. His chauffeur is with us, Andy. We have coffee and cake. The cake is space-cake. I am very stoned. Jimmy goes to bed, and Andy goes to pick up some of my work colleagues, who are coming over for a party.
Before they arrive, I wander round Jimmy’s house. There’s a huge hanger, covered inside with transparent, yet iridescent plastic, a small bathroom, with dangerous electrical wiring, and a run down outhouse, where I lay in bed with a twenty-something woman.
She says she loves me, but that I’m too old, and too fat. This makes me sad, but I’d rather it was said now rather than later.
Andy returns with more people. I explain how stoned we all are.
I am helping a younger Claudia move some computers. We have to make our way carefully through the snow and mud on a curved path around a lorry stuck front first into the ground. We climb a slight hill. On the other side we discuss Homer‘s Iliad. I can’t believe they haven’t read it. “Like the Simpsons?”,
“No, not like the Simpsons.”
Looking down the hill I see Simpsons characters falling down a broken wooden staircase into a foaming torrent beneath, swept away by the current.
My ipad is affected by a Trojan. This frustrates me greatly.
I am on the roof of a tower block. Looking down I can see people, frozen in time, falling. They all have black spidery hands and strange legs. I want to jump off, but I’m afraid of heights. I’m not sure if I am dreaming or not. I try to identify where my sleeping body is. In not sure, so I don’t jump. I move away from the edge. There’s a concrete shopping centre, and a phone is ringing. I approach it and it stops ringing. I enter the phonebox and Jef is still on the line. He talks to me about three key films for inducing lucid dreams. I thank him and step out of the phone box.
I wander down a road that is a river. In the distance is Big Ben. I think of Freud and how he would interpret this as something to do with a big dong. As I approach a corner, an empty boat passes, so fast that I miss my chance to jump in. I have literally missed the boat. I see that there are lots of boats passing. I grab one, which is half flooded with water. I bail it out, struggle with it to maintain workable dimensions, and head for the big city.
Ahead I see warnings flash in the water. Mines have been deployed. They do not appear to damage my boat. I keep on.
On a rocky outcrop is a giant black anteater. Part of his back moves and becomes an otter type creature heading towards me. The boat becomes mud and I slide half way into the water, transforming into a black, furry, smoothed faced creature with tiny black eyes.