The Calendar Engine


I am demonstrating a calendar.

It looks like an engine.

Assembling it, I realise it has three tubes containing water, and an electrical valve socket at the bottom of each tube, to which a floating pen is tethered.

I can’t figure out how it works, and customers are asking me questions. It appears to be controlled by a ring I’m wearing, when I pull an eye out of the skull on the ring changes happen, but they are unpredictable.

Water leaks onto the floor. Like a washing machine, this calendar needs to be plumbed in before use.

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3D Topology of Dream Reality


I am in a field near some buildings. There are trees. I warn people that things are about to morph, and to stand back. They move against a wall. I warn them that the buildings will also change. They move onto the grass. An old lady is absorbed into a wall, it ripples like water and becomes a glass screen. There are tiny edit points visible on the trees and grass, I know this means things are about to change.

Suddenly there’s a shift, and we are in a BskyB tv studio. The walls are lined by giant screens, the floor is white tiles. In the distance are cameras and strangely deformed people. I tell my people to wait, and I advance.

The TV people are hideously deformed, having half human, half animal faces. Some are in obvious pain. I try to dispatch these as painlessly as possible.

I am in a wheelchair waiting for a bus. I’ve just got out of hospital. I don’t want to take the wheelchair on the bus, but I know I’ll need it at the other end. I don’t know how best to return it to the hospital.

I am staying in a room above a pub. They always have bands on, and getting through to my room can be difficult. I ascend the stairs. I keep thinking that I need to climb outside the building, but there are steps inside I can use. I get to my room. I’m sharing with a friend.

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Moon Invasion


I am in a bunker with Hitler and some guys from work. We are playing electronic drums with knitting needles. On his kit, Rob is cooking eggs. Something passes the window. It’s another Hitler in a superman costume. Our Hitler reminds us that we have to go outside sometimes. We moan about the cold.

Outside. The bunker has gone. We are on a high rise estate, outside a small independent computer shop.

I look at the moon. It is glowing, changing patterns like a phosphorescent jellyfish. I know there is life there, and civilisation. My friend tells me I am imagining things. As we photograph the moon, small, bat sized drones whizz past overhead. I decide to head home. I turn into a narrow alleyway. On the floor are tiny cricket sized alien drones. I hop and skip my way past them.

At the end of the alley, I am surprised that the street lights are still on. I expect global power to be cut soon. I also expect the drones to be creating zombies, helping us to destroy ourselves.

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Finally, Peace


I am seeing a young nurse. She keeps being called away to work. We are in a tunnel underground. A bunker. I search for her, and eventually find a way out, via a magnetically protected nuclear shelter. People are crowding in. I step outside. The world is beautiful. Through a gap in the clouds I see the trails of missiles. They are passing over London, launched from Berlin. I realise we are already dead. There’s no point in trying to shelter. I walk along the streets, smiling at people in their panic, realising how beautiful the world is, how much I love people.

I hear a samba band in the distance. Passing them, I enter a field. Hippies weave willow and live off the grid. In the distance I can see a stately home. We head for it and force our way in.

Inside, it is huge. Spaces full of disused vehicles and bicycles, a long corridor. We explore until we arrive at a child’s bedroom. At the back of the wardrobe is a door, and beyond this, another into a secret room. No one is there. Just the ghosts of a tick, a cat, a dog and a deer.

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Unlimited Astral Travel


I am being consulted as an astrologer. One of my ex girlfriends, Julie, is there; my client is her new girlfriend. She asks if her presence disturbs me. I say no. Another woman is there too. I consult an ephemeris, and at the same time, open myself up psychically to them. I see a farmhouse by a river, a bridge half demolished or half completed. I ask if that has any significance to them. The scene changes, to a more modern time. The bridge has gone, and the farmhouse has a modern extension. It doesn’t have meaning for any of them. I recognise the location and try to explain it to them.

I pass out, fitting like an epileptic. I am outside my body, my hands are numb and freezing, and I can’t move. I drift away, thinking that maybe it’s time for me to die. Julie calls out to me and counts me back into my body.

I wake up, and stagger away in a crowd of people. We arrive at a train station. There are no tracks, and no ground, just a city and a forest far below, with clouds in between.

I step off the platform. I don’t fall. Others see me and do the same. They also float. We hold hands, link arms and set off together. I show them Exeter, and my version of Wolverhampton modified with French architecture.

The old ways are dead, together we can travel anywhere.

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Power Underground


I have a machine. One of a kind. It enables me to fly, and to modify reality as if I were in Minecraft.

I start on one side of my screen, then fly through into another world. I remodel Wolverhampton with French castles, and I plot to take over Haldon Belvedere for the resources and secrets hidden underneath.

A visiting tradesman sees the machine. I imprison him to protect my secret. Every time I use the machine to create, he turns pale, and gets ill.

He tries to escape and a huge hungry wolf pulls him back through the wall.

I meet up with a rival, Fat Magneto and his sidekick. Also, a bunch of do gooders arrive. I show them the machine. Magneto is greedy and wants it for power, but accepts an offer to share in its rewards. He is nearly bankrupt. The do gooders ask about its healing powers. They want to help the imprisoned tradesman.

I assure them that I will use it only for good. I continue to secretly covet the hidden depths of Haldon Belvedere. True power lies there.

I am asleep in a damp carriage in the rain. I’ve been experiencing augmented reality promenade theatre. I watch the final movie and twitter feed and take some photos, then head back to the ticket office to return the borrowed equipment.

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Monkey of the Mechanical Mob


I am at a reception in a hotel. Ori and I have organised something else later, a surprise north of Nottingham. Possibly a boat trip. I leave to catch a train. The station is in Italy. I’m confused which platform I need, all the trains are going in the same direction.

The station collapses away, in small blocks. I find myself on a street in the UK. Blocks of flats walk around on robot legs, they are in charge, communicating orders via a monkey with electrodes in his brain sat at a keyboard. (I remember thinking that this is a great symbol for mob rule).

I type randomly on the monkey’s keyboard. This enrages the robot housing, and it turns on me, firing bolts of lightning and giving me quite a shock. I run down a narrow alleyway where it can’t follow. I try to take a shortcut back to the road, the police have sealed it off though.

I climb a fence into a garden. I’m followed by two lads who are thinking of stopping me for a reward. Their hearts aren’t i. It though. I convince them to lay under pieces of greenhouse and claim that I overpowered them and made my escape.