Dream Advertising 

I’m in Newton Heath, where I was born. It’s all ruins. Two guys who look like a mash up of Wham! and Trump are using part of the ruins as a garage. 
I’m on a coach. It drives into a river. As it sinks, I shout, to tell the driver that we are not a boat. Music swells, and I rise above the water, flying triumphant through ruined buildings on either side of the river. I’ve been rewarded for political awareness, or something. It feels great. Then I’m pulled out of it, and a voice says “This part of your dream is sponsored by Sky”. I’m angry that advertisers are in my dreams.  
I’m outside a door. I knock. A woman answers, and invites me to follow her down a spiral staircase. I think this is an advertising trick so I push through a door instead. Behind the door, three people are tied up. Restrained in chairs. I cautiously poke them, aware that I’m probably being recorded by ad companies. 
I leave the room and run upstairs. The woman is still looking for me. She’s joined by two blond cheerleaders, dressed in yellow. The girls fold yellow cloth as if they each carry a baby, and ridicule me with cheerleading. I grab some of the cloth, and shout my own, sarcastic, rhymes about them back. The cheerleaders want funding, for gap year travel. A man sits next to me watching them perform. He’s thinking of funding a computing project, an artificial intelligence with existential angst. He decides to fund the cheerleaders, as he will learn as much about the existential nature of human suffering, but also because “they have nice asses”. 
I take a plane to bath. Dogs everywhere in the airport. This makes me happy. 
At a friends house, I climb a curtain to put a colourful hat on a glass head, while below me a rescued hedgehog munches her way through a carpet swirling with crawling insects. 


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