Tuesday, 19 February 2019


A small Verne Troyer-alike guy on a huge motorbike sits on the lawn in my parent's front garden. There is another biker present. He revs the bike hard, spinning up the earth, grinning from beneath his shades. I batter him viciously on the top of his head with a massive chunk of hardened catarrh-

Sunday, 17 February 2019


Back at Largs Academy. On the stairwell between floors in the old(er) building. Looking from the landing heading upstairs can I see my adult friend Ayy Arr, actor Ian McShane and a lady talking together. I seem to feel they are talking about me - I have an imprint that previously I was following them upstairs while they discussed, but did not notice, me. I deliberately slow down on the stairs in the hope they catch me up and they do. I am then walking with them, Ian McShane looming tall and large in my field of vision-

I go up to the school's art department, clutching a huge floppy book (to do with art, my career?) uncomfortably under my arm, and seem very keen to talk to the teachers. The area is crowded with classes and canvasses and the teachers, until I can get close enough, look very similar to those I had when I was in Secondary School. I approach each of them in turn, first and older man then a much older woman, then shy away, realising it's 20-25 years since I attended and these people are not the same. I end up being approached, and talking to, a young woman, voicing my confusion about who is there and why I am there-

Tuesday, 12 February 2019


Arr Vee had grassed up Bee EmmCeeEff for something at school. Bee then wrote “f**k you, you f**king f**k” in plasticine on Arr's front doorstep. Trying to figure out how he did it without getting caught. Did he press the letters in? Did he use letter or word stamps? Did he make the letters separately and press them down as needed?-

Friday, 8 February 2019


Leaving a hospital and outside the exit are two men, one black, one white, dressed in smart, shiny grey suits. The black chap, bald head, complete with shades, gets on a motorbike. My friend Enn Bee and I get on a bus, where I sit on my own behind the very same black guy (?). He has dropped a card that I pick up. It says "to Dad, happy birthday!" inside. I think does this make him the father, or is it to his father? I slip the card into the gap between the seats. When the bus stops I get up and follow him off. He is now a large white woman, with a sturdy man-ish build. I offer her/him the card. Eventually, after some prompting, he takes it from me. In the meantime my own ticket has blown out of my hand and fluttered under the bus. I start to call him a bastard for this. I ask Enn Bee if I need my ticket to further our journey and he says yes. Thankfully it has blown out a little from under the bus, allowing me to collect it. Enn starts to run, setting off to catch the next bus-

We are in London, running through a vast array of gap-sites, the ground covered in red stones. Enn is ahead, but soon slows up considerably, his smoker's lungs getting the better of him. I'm now running very fast, followed closely by two girls who sing John Phillips' 'Holland Tunnel', particularly the "you know the lollipop you suckin" line, in a sort of confused unison with me-

Friday, 1 February 2019


In a large, bright and airy dormitory kind of space, with old fashioned windows high on the left hand wall. It's almost like a wing, and there is music booming from the next portion, which is at an angle to where I am. I am sure Eff Tee and a friend are playing this music but cannot see them as where the wing turns at a slight angle there is a wall (to their room?). I am talking to a woman about this. The few people here feel like they are from my primary school class, but they feel grown up in the way that they have adult minds, but visually their age is hard to define. I have a bunch of pound coins in a stack held between my finger and thumb. Someone is trying to give me a few more coins, saying that I had dropped all of them and failed to pick these up at the time. We argue in a friendly manner that the extra coins are not mine. Gee Emm is driving us back from somewhere. We are in a classic styled American car with a green paintjob. Gee almost drives straight into a wall as the parking garage has recently been remodelled. Previously you could go straight ahead, but now you have to turn right where there are two parking bays (in turn separated by a wall). Gee pulls into the first bay, capable of holding about 10 cars, and, to my surprise, parks carelessly. I see a close up as he scrapes the car off of two scooters, damaging their paintwork. I am concerned at his lack of skill, knowing he is a pilot- 

I am called away from whatever it is I am doing - I am somewhere on a crowded stairwell taking a call on an old 2004 Nokia mobile - and join the writer, director and designer from Electric Man on the set of their film about baseball, Stealing Second. Dee Bee, Ess Bee and Ess EmmSee are standing in front of a glazed door that has a lot of fine timber beading running horizontally at 50cm or so intervals to create a decorative pattern. Somehow at the top the beading means there is no room for a traditional timber frame (of, say, 8cm or so) and the whole thing looks wrong visually. They cannot work this out and ask me for advice. There are two makeshift timber shelves in front of the door, with pots of varnish and such on them, and as I move them out the way to get a better view they seem to comically crash down on the writer's head - on the second occasion a hammer hits him. This seems to alternate between an extreme close up inspecting the timber beading and a wider shot to watch the slapstick from behind. I feel so close to solving the puzzle- 

I am then sitting with Shaun Ryder. He is wearing shades and I am a little surprised at how big his head is. It seems unnaturally large. When he opens his mouth he has a chain running from either side with a plate in the middle running across his bottom set of teeth. This plate has some writing embossed on it, like a far sturdier GI dog tag, or indeed a bracelet. He removes this? I notice that he seems to have lots of lower teeth, enough so that every three teeth or so there is a section - equivalent to about three molars - that has been infilled with a solid, coloured light. These look like traditional nightlights, a purple or green hued section of frosted plastic. I sit, fascinated by this large display of teeth and glowing lights-

Saturday, 26 January 2019


Returning home to Largs after a very long time. Due to nuclear activity. Looking in our garden. It was full of animal life that had fled here in order to survive as we had. The timber chest from my bedroom was sitting in the garden full of goldfish swimming around. The grass was littered with all sorts of stuff. We were all sitting in the living room when the army turned up. A huge helicopter flew overhead and dropped a soldier in Cunningham Drive. Aware another soldier had been dropped previously but I didn't know how. I was thinking of John Wayne at the time. The helicopter pulled away and hovered over our house. I was afraid it would crash on us. Massive rails came down past the living room window and a tank came driving down them moments later. A vehicle that looked like a local council truck (carrying two fat, red gas canisters) that had been driving around suddenly turned sharply and made to drive up the rails to the helicopter. Kind of half on when it drove off and rolled on to its side. It smacked the side of the house. Could see a clear liquid leaking from the canisters while the rear of the truck burst into flame. We thought it would explode so my family all did a runner into what I expected to be the neighbour's garden. There was a bird box filled with magpies. The house next to our neighbour's had a fantastic roof crowded with chimney pots and in turn swamped by ravens and blackbirds. Like Emm's roof. So cool I wished I'd seen it(?)-

The garden beyond even that had huge slugs that looked like they'd slithered from the imagination of H.R. Giger. There was no truck explosion. My father said the driver only broke his toe. The slugs looked dead but I kicked one until it moved. Saw a small, normal slug for comparison. There were now disgustingly smooth, cool big slugs over at our garage(?) and small ones over at our outside clothes drier(?) despite the fact we were in someone else's garden. Some fish in a puddle near the larger slugs that I can recall from another dream - strange, billowy, stringy white bits on their face. Lots of other stuff lying around too. Saw the next house and moved out onto Irvine Road. Destination Fairlie. Just after Haylie Stores(?) was a path (which was very narrow, dark and overgrown) that would take us to Fairlie. My father and little brother walked ahead and said it was fine to proceed. I ran down it very fast. An overhanging rose branch rubbed up the middle of my bottom lip, cutting it badly-

Arrived in Fairlie. Waterfront pubs with areas for sitting out. Walking through it I was trying to hide my face. Saw school pals Jay See at one pub, and Cee Bee and Gee Ess at another. Tee Gee was at one, and Bee Haitch - actually said “Alright, Bob?” to him - at yet another. At the end I met my mother's cousin, Emm Arr. We were chatting and I had to listen, bored to my mother's conversation about Emm Arr. Desperately wanted to leave. Too dark, too dangerous for my father to let us go home on our own. I really wanted us to stay until midnight when the pubs shut so that I wouldn't have to talk to anyone I knew. Something about myself and my little brother swimming along from bay to bay on the shore to get home. Thought we had both drowned and that we were dead. Everything had gone black. Instead woke up in hospital later and my father was there-

Monday, 21 January 2019


I'd been out with some pals and wanted to stay out, but decided to go home instead and, when I stuck on the telly when I got in an old school pal was on it (a Thom Yorke-alike guy) talking away - I mind thinking the bottom of his face was very saggy-

Then suddenly I was watching MTV2's 'Gonzo' show and Zane Low was talking on the couch to this teenager (15-16 years old). The boy had a baseball cap on backwards and as he's talking - he's quite chipper and upbeat - blood keeps seeping down from under his hat, pooling in around his eyes and stuff. So they keep pausing and cleaning his face up, but more blood comes and eventually the lines in his face begin to not clean up so he starts to look decidedly creased and haggard. The last thing I see (as they went to an advert break) was Zane Lowe pulling the guy's hat off to reveal a big matted, bloody patch of hair, and then giving him thon kinda matey rubbing his scalp with his elbow laddish thing-