I demonstrate to a sweet family that I have no choice but to take a straight line through their property, destroying whatever lies in my path. The line leads to the wide space beyond their small home. Despite being disturbed by my action the family want to follow me.
Having climbed down physically demanding metal ladders we find ourselves in a vast artificial cave full of naked hippies. Suddenly the plastic glitter sand begins rolling like water creating huge waves. It is all motorised and a lifeguard is on patrol to check that no-one drowns.
A mother and baby are hurriedly shown out the back way to a taxicab, avoiding the main Dream Customs gates. They get through without disclosing any dream.
"I don't have any more dreams to tell," my dream self complains."I'll have to tell you mine instead," says his twin.I'm not happy about it but agree to accept the offer as a compromise.
Judy Garland and Ruby Wax stand by the harbour front where I am walking my dog on a long lead. The lead gets tangled up around Ruby Wax. I call to the dog and she comes immediately. Judy Garland says, "I'm impressed, you've trained her well, ROBIN."
(That kind of memory is the sign of a true professional.)
Laid out on a table are about one hundred archeological finds that look like misshapen gallstones. Each is a symbolic sculpture representing a filthy abusive insult.
I am on a small ferry lying on the ground by a bunk bed. The waves through the porthole are like a wall of water twice as high as the boat. The captain advises us to lie with our feet facing the direction of travel. I am nervous but stay calm knowing the crossing is short.
Sometimes I have problems remembering what to do with my foot when I walk. I have to tell it what to do. It is as if everything has to be learnt for the first time and I am just pretending that I can do it.
I am using a huge machine to print out a photocard of baked beans. An enterprising Polish man tells me we should be much more ambitious. We should aim to be modern day Brothers Dalziel and get an image in the Bible. You're made then he says.
I am directing the young boy in my dreams. He is trying to drag a GENET (a female donkey) up from the ground. If there was something this boy didn't understand the first time round, we know that he may be able to grasp it years later. The boy will never age because he only exists in dreams.
Walking down Camberwell New Road at night I see a Victorian dray horse lying dead by the roadside. It is completely flat. Its harness and reins are still intact.
I am under a Thames bridge with a dog. The dog runs off up the steps of the riverbank towards the busy main road. My new girlfriend chases after him. Why didn't she put the dog on the lead? I shout to her but can't remember her name. This relationship has no chance of succeeding.
You stood there, your head darkening, turning scarlet and deep blue. Your face now a long red oblong with a blue border, covered with thick yellow buttons.
I am walking across the central Australian desert with an unknown companion.
An apparently deranged woman brandishes a knife at the canteen cashier. A quick thinking customer presses the alarm button and the security grilles drop down. The woman acts as if nothing has happened and nonchalantly picks a fork and spoon from the cutlery tray. Had we all made a mistake in assuming her guilty?
I am coating a moulded sheet of plastic with a sand based paint. The sand is not adhering to the plastic. This is a primary school task that someone else should be doing and I'm managing it badly. Who am I doing it for?
A street performer in Charing Cross Road swings a scimitar at his young son, narrowly missing his head each time. The man is slightly cackhanded and at one point the scimitar flies off almost puncturing a lorry's tyre. I can see that some people are going to take this the wrong way and will imagine they are under attack.
My usual therapist is away so someone else stands in for one week. I tell him everything in forty minutes. In that time he changes sex and the room mutates five times. I thank him for a profound experience.
With my moustache and thick greying hair I know I am a bit old and sleazy to be in the band, but I have good ideas for the lads. As they are so useless at harmonising musically, I suggest we mix different combinations of their underarm odours to create an exquisite album of smells.
In a public toilet I meet three naked figures. The first guides me in: he is a man who was once an exciting lover. The second is a young man who rejects my advances. The third has no genitals like a shop window dummy.
I am excited to see my tree is full of nests from different species of birds. I only had two nests last year.
I am trying to read to an audience in the Carnegie Hall. Because I can make no sense of the writing I sound like I am reciting an arty Dada poem. Later I realise that my "text" was actually a copy of a painting of a vase of flowers and that I had missed all its subtlety.
A tiny dog covered in snow finds his way into a cave with a miniature fireplace and settee. Everyone seems to find it so funny he is so cold, but I think just because he's small it doesn't mean his feelings are any less. I brush the snow off his back with my finger.
Suddenly I am aware the ground is moving. It is as if we are on board ship and the waves are big and dangerous. I cling on to the mast and look around for Dad. I can't see him but try to reassure myself that he can find refuge somewhere.
At dead of night the police have stormed out of the carpark in pursuit of a murderer. Dave and I run down the fire escape of the building to safety. When we get to the bottom we realise the murderer has doubled back on himself and is HERE...JUST INCHES AWAY!
I find a wardrobe at the end of a hotel corridor. It is empty apart from one tiny polyester dress hanging on a coat hanger.
Beverley Farmer is now 50 years old. Her hair has been cropped short and her face is plump. She sits upright and aloof as she always did. She tells me she has been living as a nun although she is not really religious. She gives nothing away - her air of mystery is still intact.
A young man crawls through the bedroom window of my childhood. He says "Sometimes love comes from the most unexpected sources. You should be open to all possibilities." Maybe he is right but as he mutates into George I know I just want him out of my room.
A refuse van shoots a huge pile of shellfish slime which I am forced to climb around to get past.
I shouldn't be here - charging around so recklessly in the depths of the underground docks. Now I'm in a violent fight with some workmen and I feel scared and have to escape. I fly up into the dark night. Below me I see a running woman getting smaller and smaller.
