Celestial Flight

My dream leads me along a sunny country lane. I sense that my point of view is 6 inches higher than normal - am I floating? I take the liberty of turning my body horizontal and find I am able to partially control the dream. I glide up spiralling granite steps which morph into the carved feathers of an angel and here I sit singing with a boy's unbroken voice - a tiny insect held by the warm air pressure flying high high snug in those safe wings.

The rest of the night was filled with nightmares dominated by a giant Keanu Reeves slicing his arms open.

Fighting My Way Out Of A Dream

"Can you tell your builders not to leave such a mess in my garden, " I say to one of the workmen. The head builder, a huge man in his 50's , emerges blocking my way. He punches me and then empties a box of screws and nails on my neat tiered garden. "Just leave it!" I shout backing away. My only exit is through the flat upstairs where the men are working. I push my way past a dozen aggressive workmen. I know I have to wake up to get to work but more people pour in through the front door so it becomes harder to leave. Eventually I get out and wake up.

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.

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.

Too Far Out

I have been making arrangements for High Class Dream Travel. A voice asks me if I feel guilty living my life through my dreams. A scoutmaster on a clifftop waves to me to come back to the shore.

Inevitable Fate

I am at a party where two bags of cocaine have been delivered. We somehow know that at the end of the dream the police will find the powder easily and will go on to arrest us all. Despite this, when it is time for the police to arrive, we desperately search everywhere for a hiding place. Finally I shove it under a couch knowing full well that this is where the police are due to find it. There is a sense of inevitable fate that we race towards and are powerless to prevent.

Strong Hands

My hands appear much broader than in my waking life. They are hardy and reliable and have known physical labour. I realise good dreams are like these hands. If you work with them, they too become a source of strength.

Underground Flight

I am flying through a strange underground network of old tunnels, aware that I am inventing the space as I go. The sensation is like swimming underwater without the difficulty breathing, and I find I am quite good at it. Gliding round a corner I grab a rock from the crumbling brickwork and hurl it at a corpse covered by a tarpaulin far below me.

Concealed Meaning

With sleight of hand a silk handkerchief has been placed over an unknown object making it disappear from view.

Anything Is Possible

To demonstrate that anything is possible in dreams, Marlene cheekily removes her head and hangs it on the hatstand.
"Oh don't DO that, Marlene," I say, "It's so creepy."

Hand Passes Through Glass

I know I am in a dream. I need to find some proof that dreams have a purpose. I see a CD in the window of a junk shop. (Junk shops are the only shops I seem to dream about.) I concentrate hard and push the glass firmly so it folds back allowing my hand to slip through and remove the CD. The shop assistant is powerless to stop me.

No Charge

Ed asks if he can buy a raffle ticket. "You don't need to pay anything," I tell him, "This is my dream and you can have it for free."

Is This How To Run In Dreams?

I am a bit lost, running home from King's Cross. Usually when I run in dreams my legs are heavy, but this time I seem to have got the hang of it more and I am kicking my legs back forcefully for added propulsion. It is all a question of not visualising myself as a bad runner. I take huge strides, my feet barely touching the ground, leaning forward at an extreme angle. I get along much faster than usual and am very pleased with myself.

No Dreams

I am woken by warm bright sunshine streaming into my bedroom and I can't remember any dreams on this the first day of my dreamdiary exhibition. It is 5 o'clock in the morning.