The Alchemical Wedding


I am in a corridor at the University of Plymouth. It is blocked by a flimsy barricade. I push it over. The corridor is busy, full of ‘cool’ people, roughly divided into hippies with dreads and douchebags with popped collars. I have no time for them and barge my way through. People move out of my way. The corridor becomes an outdoor path through the grounds, black Tarmac glinting in the low sun. I race against Spanish speaking students. At a junction, I take the steep path to the right. As I climb it, I am looking down at my feet as though through a wide angle lens. My feet move incredibly slowly, but take great strides.

I find myself at a large stately home. It is my brothers house. He is getting married. I enter and try to find my room. I am sweating and exhausted. My brother Ken is in our room, relatives’ coats are piled on a bed. I try to sleep, but can’t. All I can think is that I have to collect my dog from my ex girlfriends. I determine to go. Some of my brothers follow me. We will miss the wedding.

We zig zag down an alleyway that takes us to a rooftop. We bounce down into the cafe below. Outside it is night, and raining. I talk to a black and white character about how wages have fallen, in real terms, since the 1930s. I explain that this is mostly due to automation, and that this will eventually doom the middle class.

We walk until dawn. My brothers are concerned. Finally, we reach a derelict house. On the outside is a crude logo and the word ‘macdraw’. I laugh at my minds ability to create a resolution.

I enter. Inside is a goth woman. She’s waiting for me. We go through to another room. There I read some sacred texts and am bathed as I prepare myself for an alchemical marriage. My friend Jai wants to read the texts, and another hand reaches from behind me. I tell them to wait, that the text is dangerous if you try to read it before you are ready. The text protects itself. It cannot be moved or read apart from by me. I pick up a sheet and lay it on Jai’s arm. It glows and sinks into his skin.

I begin the ritual. I wake before it ends.

๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ‘ฐ

Insert: meeting polish woman with deformed baby who is a kit Kat loving ping pong bat. He plays against his father, who is a tennis racket. I think. ” she has sex with a tennis racket, how weird”.

๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ๐ŸŽพ

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