Journeying to work. Catching the bus. The bus goes in all manner of strange directions, up to the Old Shoreham Road, then down past Terminus Road etc. There are people from work on the bus. Well, Ben Lappin at least. I ignore him by pretending to read my book. I cannot remember very much of the book, but it involves a character who has just been 'released from New York Reform School'.
At work. Trying to clock in on my computer, but it is taking such a long time. Shala is working back at Telegen again. She is sat next to me. I ask her to clock me in as my computer is taking ages to boot up. I finally get my computer booted up. I tell Shala not to worry, even though it is very kind of her, but I have clocked myself in. It seems I have been moved to a different campaign; 'Benenden'. I point this out to everyone else, who thinks I must only be doing it for the day. I am not, I argue, they wouldn't have changed my clocking screen around for just one day. Then I realise I am quite happy about this. I was very bored of my previous campaign. Ben and Matt come into the office and ask me to come with them as they have something to talk to me about. One of them, Ben I think, says 'don't worry, it's good news'.
Saturday, 8 May 2010
Friday, 7 May 2010
Gloomy Castle Attic Rooms (night of 6th May 2010)
.
Seeing Sam. Telling Sarah I had seen Sam.
.
Sharing a flat with Andy. This resembled my old flat on Buckingham Street. Saying to Andy that something bad had happened and gesturing toward the window. Scaffolding could clearly be seen covering the window, and a builder's burly legs. Earlier on I had noticed there was some scaffolding work at the back of the house. Andy did not seem bothered by this.
.
Pam. An old style telephone. The darkenened and empty upstairs floor of a nightclub.
.
With my father in a castle. The castle is open to the public. There are rumours that the attic rooms are wrong, or are haunted. These interest me. When we reach them, they resemble abandoned bedsit rooms; a shabby bed, scattered magazines, emptiness.
I go to the window of one and look out onto a kind of rootop garden. Battlements surrounding it? Countryside in the distance? There is another bed in this garden. Then, whilst looking through the window at it, am no longer sure whether or not it is outside, or is in fact, another room. Something about three walls. Only the fourth letting in light. Just inside this garden attic room is a patch of grass. Beneath the grass is quite clearly the shape of a body.
.
Walking up a set of stairs and coming to a sort of landing. Jim, an old associate, is on the landing painting a canvas. It appears to be of a Salvador Dali-esque landscape. I consider telling him this but think he will be none too pleased at such a comparison. There is a woman on the landing too, perhaps lying on a sofa. her and Jim seem to have a slightly aggressive attitude toward me. They ask me a question, some kind of riddle, something about 'divorce to 25' or similar. There is a missing word or something. Whatever, I cannot hear it.
Seeing Sam. Telling Sarah I had seen Sam.
.
Sharing a flat with Andy. This resembled my old flat on Buckingham Street. Saying to Andy that something bad had happened and gesturing toward the window. Scaffolding could clearly be seen covering the window, and a builder's burly legs. Earlier on I had noticed there was some scaffolding work at the back of the house. Andy did not seem bothered by this.
.
Pam. An old style telephone. The darkenened and empty upstairs floor of a nightclub.
.
With my father in a castle. The castle is open to the public. There are rumours that the attic rooms are wrong, or are haunted. These interest me. When we reach them, they resemble abandoned bedsit rooms; a shabby bed, scattered magazines, emptiness.
I go to the window of one and look out onto a kind of rootop garden. Battlements surrounding it? Countryside in the distance? There is another bed in this garden. Then, whilst looking through the window at it, am no longer sure whether or not it is outside, or is in fact, another room. Something about three walls. Only the fourth letting in light. Just inside this garden attic room is a patch of grass. Beneath the grass is quite clearly the shape of a body.
.
Walking up a set of stairs and coming to a sort of landing. Jim, an old associate, is on the landing painting a canvas. It appears to be of a Salvador Dali-esque landscape. I consider telling him this but think he will be none too pleased at such a comparison. There is a woman on the landing too, perhaps lying on a sofa. her and Jim seem to have a slightly aggressive attitude toward me. They ask me a question, some kind of riddle, something about 'divorce to 25' or similar. There is a missing word or something. Whatever, I cannot hear it.
Thursday, 6 May 2010
The White Egg-Bird (night of 5th May 2010)
A bleak landscape. Moorland. Hills. Possibly in the North of England. I am preparing to go on holiday with Mark (possibly Andy?). We are going to New Zealand. I am staying with his family for a day or two beforehand. We go to a supermarket (?) out in the moorland. The landscape surrounding the supermarket is gloomy; mucky bogs, bleak hills etc. The sky is depthless and grey.
A number of us walking through this landscape. A kind of valley, overhanging with vegetation. We discover something. Something that looks like a white egg, but is some kind of bird also. It looks like it is made out of lego. It has some connection to my (?) past. It's own past is somewhat traumatic, though ultimately unknown. It also has an ability to wipe things out of history, so they never existed in time. These things it wipes out of existence have some connection to its own perceptions of its past. It wipes out a road. It fades away and is replaced by grass. It tried to do that with me, but it either does not work, or I am transfigured into some kind of ghost. We push the white egg bird around in a pram. I begin to feel sorry for it while everyone else hates it. It cannot help what it is doing. It looks so helpless.
A number of us walking through this landscape. A kind of valley, overhanging with vegetation. We discover something. Something that looks like a white egg, but is some kind of bird also. It looks like it is made out of lego. It has some connection to my (?) past. It's own past is somewhat traumatic, though ultimately unknown. It also has an ability to wipe things out of history, so they never existed in time. These things it wipes out of existence have some connection to its own perceptions of its past. It wipes out a road. It fades away and is replaced by grass. It tried to do that with me, but it either does not work, or I am transfigured into some kind of ghost. We push the white egg bird around in a pram. I begin to feel sorry for it while everyone else hates it. It cannot help what it is doing. It looks so helpless.
Wednesday, 5 May 2010
Powerful Experiments in Place (night of 4th May 2010)
An area just outside Kinloss in Scotland. A bridge over a stream (or burn I should say). Summer days. A footpath leads away from the bridge. Someone crosses the bridge, but pauses. This pleases me. I think 'at least he stopped for a while'.
Driving through Burnside with someone else. I am overjoyed to be back. I am delighted that they still have the white street lamps, though notice, with both dismay and acceptance, that some of them have new beige bulbs in. The street lamps are tall. Burnside is larger than in waking life.
Watching a television documentary with Andy on a photographer (?) who was fascinated with taking pictures of the Kinloss area. His photographs - black and white - show gloomy roads, misty hills etc and one appears to be of the bridge over the stream covered with fog. I say to Andy how this is making me 'feel funny' - a mixture of anxiety and nostalgia, but he does not seem to understand.
There are people from work here too. Tristam (in the dream his second name seems to be Woodhue) has found himself lost in one of the tiny clumps of foggy wood. A man and a woman, who seem to possess some kind of elker knowledge state that 'he must be doing some powerful experiments in place to be able to do that'. They are referring to the photographer, and seem to imply that his photographic talent has some arcane and occult power.
Another work-woman is here too, with her boyfriend. They are coming back from Southside. I wonder if Southside has any pubs. In the area between Southside and Burnside, there is now a carpark. Abbeylands Primary School is still there, but is all squashed in. Work-woman's boyfriend does not like a car that is covered with some kind of corrugated artistic poster arrangement, and tears it all off.
An image of the work-woman in a cavernous corridor, a mixture of a hallway like a cathedral interior and a cave.
Driving through Burnside with someone else. I am overjoyed to be back. I am delighted that they still have the white street lamps, though notice, with both dismay and acceptance, that some of them have new beige bulbs in. The street lamps are tall. Burnside is larger than in waking life.
Watching a television documentary with Andy on a photographer (?) who was fascinated with taking pictures of the Kinloss area. His photographs - black and white - show gloomy roads, misty hills etc and one appears to be of the bridge over the stream covered with fog. I say to Andy how this is making me 'feel funny' - a mixture of anxiety and nostalgia, but he does not seem to understand.
There are people from work here too. Tristam (in the dream his second name seems to be Woodhue) has found himself lost in one of the tiny clumps of foggy wood. A man and a woman, who seem to possess some kind of elker knowledge state that 'he must be doing some powerful experiments in place to be able to do that'. They are referring to the photographer, and seem to imply that his photographic talent has some arcane and occult power.
Another work-woman is here too, with her boyfriend. They are coming back from Southside. I wonder if Southside has any pubs. In the area between Southside and Burnside, there is now a carpark. Abbeylands Primary School is still there, but is all squashed in. Work-woman's boyfriend does not like a car that is covered with some kind of corrugated artistic poster arrangement, and tears it all off.
An image of the work-woman in a cavernous corridor, a mixture of a hallway like a cathedral interior and a cave.
Tuesday, 4 May 2010
Not that Voice (night of 3rd May 2010)
22.
In a room with a woman. The room is a little messy, possibly a bedroom. We are involved in some kind of contest, involving an exercise book (?) and pieces of paper. One of us has to drop the bundle of papers/book from a height, and the other person has to try and catch them. She tells me there is a special technique I can use and she will show me. She drops the papers/book from the ceiling, but there does not seem to be any new technique.
23.
Travelling through Russia by train. Possibly with Andrew. Outside the window large grassy plains pass by. I become momentarily worried about having to change trains in the deep Russia, but the moment passes.
24.
Walking along a path in a field. It is approaching twilight. There may be a cottage nearby. A number of people are coming toward me - part of some kind of rambling group. Some are starting to cut across the field, not using the path. I can hear them talk about how pleased they have been with the progress made that day. They are slowing for the night. I will have to walk past them. I am nervous -should I say hello or just ignore them?
25. (not a dream as such, but I remember waking and saying the words 'not THAT voice' in a tone of supernatural terror. I then woke properly, but have no memory of the dream -or nightmare- that precipitated such an outbur
st)
In a room with a woman. The room is a little messy, possibly a bedroom. We are involved in some kind of contest, involving an exercise book (?) and pieces of paper. One of us has to drop the bundle of papers/book from a height, and the other person has to try and catch them. She tells me there is a special technique I can use and she will show me. She drops the papers/book from the ceiling, but there does not seem to be any new technique.
23.
Travelling through Russia by train. Possibly with Andrew. Outside the window large grassy plains pass by. I become momentarily worried about having to change trains in the deep Russia, but the moment passes.
24.
Walking along a path in a field. It is approaching twilight. There may be a cottage nearby. A number of people are coming toward me - part of some kind of rambling group. Some are starting to cut across the field, not using the path. I can hear them talk about how pleased they have been with the progress made that day. They are slowing for the night. I will have to walk past them. I am nervous -should I say hello or just ignore them?
25. (not a dream as such, but I remember waking and saying the words 'not THAT voice' in a tone of supernatural terror. I then woke properly, but have no memory of the dream -or nightmare- that precipitated such an outbur
st)
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