Most of this dream is subject to a non disclosure agreement, as it’s about work systems at my employment. What follows is the unredacted remnants.
In front of him, a basket of rhubarb.
I’m carrying a huge, metal wire structure with someone else, we weave past weeping willows, and talk of hiring photographers. We cross a road, and I meet up with some fellow Oliver Heaviside enthusiasts. We talk of hats like bats, and music on harmoniums. I leave my other wire burdened friend to carry that load alone, and join these Heavisiders in a fizzy ale, that we carry, and swig as we slip and slide down a square concrete helix, that people sit upon, legs dangling dangerously over the sides.
The people laugh at my drinking glass, plastic, and in two connected parts. “Two halfs make a hole”, I say. They laugh. People walk out of a hillside, looking for a black mountain, not far for them to go, I think.