Dream Diary
1995 / 1994
Sat Aug 12 06:00:00 GMT 1995
Lying in bed, it's night time but there's enough light to see. Looking at whisky in glass, thinking about the young William Burroughs. He is lying in bed next to me, and I realise that I'm dreaming.
I pull back the sheets, undo his trousers, and thrust his rigid member into my throat. I find that I have difficulty keeping my teeth away from his rubbery flesh, and sympathise with girls who have the same problem.
Then I decide to turn him over, but decide that I'd rather make love in a vagina, so I try to make him turn into a woman. However, the process is not complete, and the I'm worried that the resulting hermaphrodite will have artificially constructed genetalia.
Wed Jul 26 06:00:00 GMT 1995
In bedroom at home. Tailor has come to measure me up. I've only just got up, so I'm only wearing T-shirt and pants. He is a rather insidious south-west European.
I realise, as he puts the tape around my waist, that there's little point in expanding all my muscles, as this will confuse the measurement.
Then, one loop of the tape drops from my waist, dangling around my buttocks. I realise that he is moving to retrieve it, and he then starts pressing firmly at my arsehole. I try to pull away, deciding that I don't want to be taken so easily...
Fri Jun 30 06:00:00 GMT 1995
Man persuades me to have sex with his girlfriend. She wears a leather mask, and has white plastic mesh body-stocking which has been in some way pierced into her labia. Also, her vagina is lined with hard moulded rubber, reminiscent of the part of a scuba diving flipper which houses the foot, and there are numerous white marble implants forming a knobbly texture on the way into the vagina.
I am concerned about penis lacerations. When finished, my entire penis comes off in the condom, and spurts blood and water as it deflates.
Fri May 26 06:00:00 GMT 1995
Watching early evening news, which is showing a report on a new medical discovery concerning anal sex. Doctors have found that there is a special mode of entry which is less damaging than conventional techniques.
However, I am surprised that they are able to show this level of intimate close-up, even under the pretext of a scientific education programme, particularly as the participants are getting rather involved, shouting and flailing their arms as in a Russ Meyer movie...
Sun May 21 06:00:00 GMT 1995
I'm at this party, trying to perform a robbery. I sidle up to two girls sitting at the end of the corridor, and hold them up - to their great surprise - with a gun, only to reveal in a humorous manner that the gun is in fact one of those green plastic toy guns which spew sparks when fired.
Tickled by this performance, the girls are happy to become accomplices in my plan. They go off to set up a bomb, which will act as a distraction. However, before I know what is happening, the bomb goes off, killing or maiming most of the other party-goers.
I am amazed by the realism of the flash of light, it actually hurts my eyes. Some sparks, or perhaps burning masonry hit my hand, and I feel a distinct burning sensation.
Fri Mar 17 06:00:00 GMT 1995
Sitting on corner of a fast road in town with new girlfriend. Rain on streets. I'm pulling my clean socks out from under the tarmac. I sit her on my knee, and her face is rubbed red, glistening with the cold rain. I kiss her, and she is very tender.
"Let's go for a swim in the sea!" I say. I put her in my arms, and we are running along. There is a dying man in the road, and there seems to a police car coming to investigate.
However, before the police can cordon off the road, a number of cars go past, driven by people wearing masks, or possibly polythene bags, who have probably been strangled.
Then, one car hits the dying man, dragging him fifty yards along the road. A whole trail of cars driven by corpses drive past, and I try to point them out to the police.
Mon Aug 15 06:00:00 GMT 1994
Come out of an old white house in a hurry. The house is at the crest of a low ridge, perhaps a little neglected, but retaining a romantic character with its painted wooden sides and awkwardly intersecting corners.
I'm running over windy grassy fields, noticing the way the sun reflects from the thick, healthy blades of grass as they are beaten down by the gusts. Whilst running, I trip and fall over, tumbling in a haphazard fashion through the grass and into an arbitrary heap. I manage to lose consciousness during the fall.
I hear the ringing of an old-fashioned telephone as I come round, It's a bulbous, angular, shiny black contraption, sitting on the grass in front of me, and the handle shakes visibly as the bell vibrates beneath it. I answer it, to discover that it is my mother.
She wants me to go into the covered market in town to pick up some ingredients for her latest aromatherapy treatment. I make it into town, but it is almost closing time. I wander through the covered market, to the sound of a busking string quartet, through the sick and heady smell of the game carcasses hanging provocatively outside the butcher's stall.
I find the shop which is supposed to sell the medicine, which turns out to be more of an apothecary. It is situated in a teatering victorian terrace, looking a little shabby with the bright green paint flaking away from the wooden window frames.
The assistant in the apothecary looks at me suspiciously as I purchase the ingredients. He insists on checking my blood pressure, and concludes that I have had a heart attack. I realise that it must have happened when I fell over on the grass earlier.
Suddenly, however, I find myself back at the white house, emerging onto the windy hill. I have travelled in time, possibly at the hands of the physician, who did seem suspiciously out of place, back to the point just before my heart attack, to have my chance all over again. Instead of running, I calmly sit down on the grass, playing with a few strands here and there, until I feel the chest pain grow, and then subside.
I am glad to have been given an opportunity to not make the same mistake twice.
Fri Jun 24 06:00:00 GMT 1994
I am walking through college, and see my room mate in the distance. He is wearing a Benson and Hedges Superkings Light shirt, with a contrasting Marlboro tie. I haven't seem him wearing this before, I suppose he must have collected enough tokens from getting through so many packs. It makes him look unusually smart, however, although it also gives the impression of him being a sleazy darts player.
He is in a group of people, who I deduce must be his tutors. They are criticising him about something, perhaps his attitude to his work, I cannot hear what they are saying. They have finished talking by the time I arrive, so I meet up with him and we walk through the college gates into the street outside.
We move away from college, and hover outside a derelict shop. The unpainted wooden door frame has been knocked from its makeshift hinges. Through the opening we can see a scene of decay and devastation. Partially clothed, dirty women lie amongst dust and rubble, fumbling with frequently used syringes which are barely able to pierce their rough and leathery skin.
At the side of the room stand the pimps, swarthy, sweaty Italians looking on protectively as if birds trying to let their offspring take care of themselves, but underneath it is clear that they have little feeling for their workers who have beed deliberately hooked on heroin in order to guarantee their servitude.