Underground Work

Repair work is being carried out along 18 metres of the District Line.

Nothing Remembered

No dream recalled.

Elephant Drawing

The last exercise is being written for our book. It shows how to create a life size drawing of an elephant from lots of sheets of paper.

No-one At Home

We are dropping by June's huge mansion. She isn't in, or at least she doesn't answer the door. I explain that that is normal because it takes so long to get to the front door. Well, she doesn't show up so we assume she has gone on already.

Announcement Of New Team Member

I am addressing a hall of people who work with adults with learning disabilities. "The new staff member for our group is..." I pause dramatically,"...is..." (The long wait is actually because we haven't worked out who it is) "...is...Christine is going to tell us now..." Christine looks flummoxed but announces someone's name who isn't present. I continue, "No...not them...the new staff member is...the new team member who will link up with Batman and Robin to confront every possible foe...(here a cartoon graphic is provided)...is..." (we never get to find out.)

Subtitles For Music

Alice is sleeping in my flat. M has set up a portable TV/computer very close to her head and is watching some vintage performance art accompanied by music with an annoying insistent beat - lots of bleeps and clicks. When she asks him to turn the sound down he raises his eyebrows and just pretends to alter the volume. "Can't you watch with subtitles?" she suggests.

Ability To See Long Distance Curtailed

On a gay pride march through Carrick I am wearing a green nose and clown's outfit. I am dragged into some silly performance art nonsense where something like a giant skewer is pushed through a passerby. My friend reprimands me saying it is all thoughtless and why am I getting involved? She tells me about a major robbery that has taken place where she works. I haven't heard anything about it. "God don't you ever pay any attention to the news?" she asks tetchily, "we have just had 1000's of binoculars stolen." She is very disappointed at my lack of serious commitment to daily news events.

Rodents In My Garden

My garden is a mound of soil piled up against one wall. Running around are three rats.
There are actually six rats. A live squirrel is playing with a dead squirrel.

Searching For Last Night's Dream

I am trying to find the contents of last night's dream. I look for clues from my niece and nephew - we take three steps through a gateway. It's all gone.

No Dream Recalled

Nothing remembered. I know it was a good one though.

Sapling

A white page showing a winter tree growing out of a circular patch of deep blue earth with red and green flecks. The tree is delicate but young and healthy, its soil rich.

Sabotage!

Someone has sabotaged the overflow outpipe of the cistern containing the life blood of this building. When I climb up to the loft to investigate I see the ball cock has been removed. The pipe has been deliberately severed and water is seeping down through the ceiling. Not only that but the rich life blood supply for the building has been cut and is dripping slowly from a kind of battery. This is the equivalent of a terrorist attack. I work out how to repair the damage by getting others to help, connecting the blood battery to the water supply. We find a scrap of paper left by the saboteur- he hated change and anything that didn't fit in with the norm.

Dogs At The Door

I am walking my (long dead) Jack Russell, Dilwyn, along a country lane. In the distance I see two terrifying black dogs rushing towards us. I run into the porch of a house calling to Tor to get in quickly. I close the glass panelled outer door behind me knocking on the main front door. Tor Tor hurry up. As she approaches I can see the dogs through the mottled glass. "Open up,"she laughs, "look." Behind her are two soppy black spaniels.

Bed On The Shore

Sal and I are visiting Richard Briers in his old house on an island, but the route is treacherous. I climb steep rocky steps and squeeze through a tiny window feet first pulling myself up into an odd metal contraption where I am held Houdini style. Now I am hopping from rock to rock across the island. At one point I am in a bed in an open wing of the house. The bed sits at the edge of the shore. I am told that if I sleep here at full moon all kinds of birds will appear and swim around me. It's a lovely image although I am a bit nervous the tide will rise and the bed will be swept away. I am assured there is no problem.

Guilty Cuckold

Everyone keeps changing sex in this dream. A young man is having an affair behind his wife's back. The mother-in-law I notice freezes for a second as she obviously twigs what is happening. At one point near the end the male cuckold (or is it a woman?) needs paper for some drawing and the still unknowing wife offers him some. "No," the cuckold says, "Use mine." He is beginning to feel guilty. Now they are discussing using something like Mortadella to draw on. "Heavy!" I say and the cuckold withdraws. I find myself filling cracks in the wall with the wife's money but can't bring myself to do it.

Am I The Defender Or The Prosecutor?

I have clambered down through a tiny doorway over worn grey leather seats into a court room. Seated in rows are various people I half recognise- all here to decide the future of my flat. The council has offered me £3000 to move. I know it is not enough. I can't work out who is supporting me. An old scout is there - I think on my side - but two fat women who I thought friendly are making snide remarks. My helpful solicitor I realise is opposing me and wants me out of my flat. I don't really understand the case. Am I even on the right side myself?

Romantic Boy

I am in a room full of middleaged women wearing cheap Elizabeth 1 style dresses, over primped hair spun like Elizabeth 2. Some of these women are men in drag. The prettiest woman has deep red lips filling half of her face. Amongst these creatures I find a boy of about 12, maybe older. He has been keeping a diary and occasionally records his dreams. I tell him to use his dreams to find out what he needs to do. "You can continue working on your dreams when you are awake," I tell him, "It's called active imagination." I brush two long strands of hair from his otherwise short hair and recognise that he is of course me.

Bicycle Maintenance Book

At last I have completed cataloging information for inclusion in our book on bicycle maintenance. Now I find that the bike doesn't tally with the details on the page. I search for the data on the page again and still the bike does not match. I carry on regardless.

Sunshine Tea

In this kitchen, on this day, England is seen in an idealised form. Russian soldiers are being released and there is a sense that we have all been liberated. But the soldiers must all be supplied with sunflower or sunshine tea and for this, I, a teenage boy, am responsible. I have been waiting months or years for this moment and now I rush at top speed to fill the kettle with boiling water. We gather 100's of bags of the sunshine tea. Everything relies on my producing the full pot.

Morphing Soap

The (Crabtree and Evelyn) soap Marlene gave me yesterday in my waking life is transformed in my dream when I wet it. Instead of being round and opaque it becomes oblong and translucent like Pear's soap.

Encounter With Rupert Bear

Rupert Bear and I are discussing my lovely new mattress. He is concerned that there is no direct train to Rotherhithe but I assure him there are ways round these problems.

Black Wedding

Chris and I have discovered that Maggie is getting married and has invited loads of friends but only mentioned it to us at the last minute. Everyone arrives in smart black outfits with Maggie in a long elegant black dress and her hair recently "done". Feeling underdressed, we go through the formalities of saying how gorgeous she looks, although Chris particularly is really upset not to have been asked beforehand. We head off to another appointment.

Smuggled Person Affected By Postal Strike

I am forced to send my lover, or a small girl, through the post. It is the only way to get her out of the country. We package her up in white paper and I watch as she is bundled into a post office sorting bag and hurled to the back of a lorry. We calculated that she should be ok for the estimated 3 days delivery time but I realise that with the postal strike there is the likelihood of delays. Can she survive long enough?

Not The Best Person For The Job

I am running a keep fit class for a group of women in an old church hall. One of the women informs me that Vinnie Jones was doing the job before me. "Yes, Vinnie was VERY good. Maybe you could get him in for a couple of sessions," she suggests. The idea is daunting- he will see through me straight away as I am not particularly athletically fit. "What would be useful," she adds, "is if you could let us have an 8 year plan showing how you intend to develop this course." I have an idea that the women like me teaching them but I just think I am not the best person for this job.

Woken By My Own Snorts

I am putting together a book and cataloging each page. Everything has been completed but my computer brain has to check the page numbers and it seems that each time I tick off a listed item I produce a ginormous snort which immediately wakes me up. I manage to wake myself up about four or five times in one hour.

Young Boys Discovered With Heads Severed

J comes rushing into the crowded library/museum, her hair wild. "They've got him! They've got the second boy," she sobs and collapses in my arms.
A young boy of five has been found mutilated and despite his severed head, he was able to speak confirming how the last boy died. There is a huge commotion in the hall. I don't seem that bothered - I am searching for my jacket, a heavy puffed brown thing - ugly - so I can go for a walk with the family.

The Deformed Clone

A wealthy Chinese man has had a clone made of himself. The clone however is shrivelled and ugly, a deformed twin. Despite his proclaimed heterosexuality, the man describes their sex as fantastic because his twin knows him inside out. I am disgusted by the idea and can't understand how he can find pleasure in this way. I meet him in a bar in China where he works - he seems now like a conventional English gay man and as he talks I wonder which twin's voice I have been listening to.

A Way Out

We are discussing something about thinking patterns. I have a disagreement with one of the women who thinks the only good decisions about the future must contain a negative rule - like "Don't do ..." I don't think negative statements help anyone but she stops me from getting too argumentative. Enclosed within transparent flaps of a box we clink glasses. June shows us the drawing she has just quietly made depicting us walking out of a circular pathway. On the exit path are the words "JUNG, WILL, ME , I."

What Do You Do When You Forget Your Lines?

I am playing a part in a Greek tragedy. As usual there I am on stage and it is my turn to speak and I have forgotten what to say.
After a long pause, I whisper to the rest of the cast, "It's ME - does anyone know my lines?" No-one does so I just sing da-da-da-da-da. I get everyone else to join in with me and the play is in chaos.
Afterwards the director is furious with me -this is the last time I will be employed as an actor. I am so ashamed. X tells me that he would never forget his lines or that if he did he would just make them up. "Yeh but its easy to make up your words when you're playing in a porn film," I retort.

Tricky Journey With Eastenders Stacey

Stacey from Eastenders and I are working on our dreams. She is not that interested. We journey together on the underground, through festival crowds, now manoevering out of a high window into a busy crater. Stacey gets me to lower her and her pram first, but how am I supposed to get down? "Look," she says , "if we do this a few times they throw money at us." I am unimpressed but jump down onto a plastic water wheel. Then I'm up to my waist in thick mud while everyone else seems to be getting through fine. And I've lost my bag with my camcorder. "If we get enough money to buy this place, Stace, the first thing I am going to do is put in some stairs!...That's the punchline," I add.

Snow In Summer

I am staying over in Tor's grand old English farm set in hilly terrain. The sun is shining and it is a beautiful summer's day. A school party of primary kids are descending the hill. We hear a big crash from the courtyard and go to investigate. The snow has melted and slid off the roof flooding the yard. Bulbous icicles hang from the trees. You'll have to go round the back, I tell them, its too dangerous here.