Bus Ticket

The only thing I remember: trying to shield myself from gunfire by holding up a bus ticket (it was all I had in my pockets).

A New Life

Begins as I arrive at small, attractive, modern but rustically-built complex by the sea somewhere in Scotland - judging by the bleached look of stone and wood, and the dune grasses, Western Isles? I am working or studying here, and have been allocated a couple of rooms at the sea-facing end - it is otherwise occupied by people I vaguely know.

Later I am visiting/staying at a much larger complex somewhere nearby. I am accompanied by J. and my friend G. This group of buildings (at times resembling parts of Stansted Airport or Cumbernauld Town Centre) is dedicated to one purpose; people are here to work, and here in substantial numbers. As we explore, we discover not only that the complex includes shops, offices, auditoria and a partially-underground railway station, but also that entrance and exit is strictly controlled. As interlopers without roles or accreditation, we will be unable to leave! We make an attempt to escape by train, but find that unless we are to be discovered, the only way to avoid identity or ticket checks is to return to our station again. Eventually, while exploring some offices (very seventies in style, much tongue-and-groove pannelling), I discover a half-open window. I squeeze through it - G. follows (J. seems to have disappeared by this point) out onto a small balcony/roof area, then drop down into a field of some kind of cereal, and liberty.

Therafter, a dream of paranoia and pursuit. A long journey through fields and lanes, avoiding encounter with any passers-by. At one point we see, rising in the distant sky, a shape somewhat like the silhouette of a stealth bomber... this splits into smaller shapes and rearranges itself, then again - now shapes resembling geese or crows silently reforming above the horizon. This is a grim sight indeed - we know it to be the pursuit (craft?) of the authorities, and necessitates a long period of hiding, attempting to avoid detection from the air. Later I lose G. - a slight feeling that he has either been caught, or decided to make his own way; it's certainly too dangerous for me to try to find him.

Eventually (days later?) I find myself on a small, rocky peninsula, high above crashing waves. I know that I will have to make my new life here, and I feel OK about that. As long, I think, as I am left alone and free from danger. I speculate that there may be a cave further down towards the shore where I can equip myself to survive, and put together my new life.

I seem to remember looking at a map (a road map, and therefore at a much smaller scale than I would like) and realising I was on the coast somewhere near Irvine.

All Quiet

Yep, as I suspected - a dream famine. This could go on for days/weeks - I'll be in touch once it all starts coming back to me.

Car Park

Mainly set around a classy hotel on a cold day. On holiday, or a trip of some kind. Discussing some issue with two disagreeing groups of people in the car park outside.

I suspect I'm heading for a period of dream famine - or at least dream-remembering famine.

London

Was in London - that's all I can remember.

Car Trouble

Can only recall one incident. A lot of driving in this dream (long journey) - at point, I somehow projected myself from my usual clapped-out red Nissan in a smaller, unremembered vehicle. Some time later realised that I had forgotten to bring the Nissan to a halt, and stopped to look for it. I was sure it would have careered into another car, or smashed into a wall, but instead found it had ground safely to a halt and was sitting by the side of the road with engine idling.

All of this happened somewhere closely resembling M8 junction by the Clyde near Langbank, Renfrewshire, on a cold, clear day.

Department Store

Big dream over several locations, lots of travelling; a journey/holiday feeling about it. We were looking after someone's apartment or caravan, then moving on somewhere else. Watching Roman Army re-enactors going through their various formations, decided (for the first time) that it looked like a rather good idea and a fine thing to do. Spent a lot of time in enormous department store with J and others (family?). I felt mildly privileged in some way, as if we were shopping for a present for me. The radio-controlled models section of this particularly well-equipped store was of interest, with some large and fantastically detailed examples of obscure naval vessels. Also remembered from shop stock: an accessory pack for model soldiers who are suppied bald: transparent plastic hairpieces in a variety of styles (short, ponytail etc.) to be painted in the desired hair colour. Their transparency allows a realistic effect to be achieved by brushing lightly, creating a convincingly strandy texture. Fat Boy Slim's ubiquitous 'Right Here, Right Now' must have had some soundtrack role in this dream, for I had it in my head when I woke up.

Nada

Nothing I can really grasp, I'm afraid, from last night. Just a feeling that the issue of 'doing things right' was a theme.

The Penthouse and Suite

J (my wife) and I are living in a penthouse apartment, quite nice - a modern, white-walled building, we have a patio-style balcony. However, the building rises from the top of a hill wooded with young, shabby-looking trees and strewn with odd bits of rubbish. We are adding to this by hurling an unwanted and torn seventies-style suite of chairs and sofa from the balcony. Clearing out, I think. My cousin K comes to stay later on. He has returned to his original engineering career and is about to attend the function of his professional organisation. I comment on the rather regimental 'engineers club' tie he is wearing for the event.

A big dream but not much remembered detail.

'Bob Harding' and Pirate Ship

Throughout the duration, looking after some kind of fairly dangerous domestic animal (black) which I had housed in a mesh hutch/run thing on a (my?) lawn.

At one point, visited huge jumble sale - the ultimate jumble sale, in fact, a warehouse-sized jumble sale. I tried to buy a replica (maybe half life-size) pirate galleon. I found that I had no way of keeping it upright on its keel, though.

Later, was watching a new TV game show entitled 'Bob Harding's Million-pound Fuck-Off'.

Sorry, but I don't make the stuff up. The mystery beast seems to me to be influenced by one of the rabbits which we keep; I'd spent a long time stroking it beside me on a sofa last night.

International Fire

Hazy, but (at some stage) being shown public-information material relating to the possibility of an 'International Fire'. This type of (natural) disaster is the fire equivalent of a pandemic, and I guess it implies that whole countries become ablaze.

It seems pretty obvious that I've been influenced on some level by present concerns regarding Avian Flu.