I am in quite a tight (but tall) unfurnished room. The walls are smooth and painted a deep blue colour. The underground comic writer Cee Cee is present and, recognising me, he and I chat. I am then amazed to see the underground comic artist Kay Ess there and I bundle myself up under a duvet (behind some sort of basic timber stud construct?) and (sort of) surprise him when he eventually uncovers me-
There's a moment of tension when Kay Ess, standing over to the right of the room, narrowly (though he does not notice) avoids being struck by a piece of MDF structure that falls (sluggishly, silently) from the ceiling. It seems that Cee Cee (inadvertently) triggered this near accident. There are two of these drawer-like MDF pieces semi-fixed to the underside of the floor above and they form the bottom of some sort of gaming chair/install. The second piece, potentially the middle, has two short, light blue coloured furry legs that dangle down and, as I fit the fallen piece into place, I marvel at the effort that has gone into (making) it-
I am then exploring the rest of this flat, a giant room in an (almost) half teardrop shape with a high ceiling – enough space to accommodate a speedway track (in my dreamescape opinion). The walls are painted deep purple and are covered with rather primitive graffiti, mostly rendered in a silver spray paint – a lot of the art is similar to the PWEI or Jesus Jones motifs. We – there are other people present, viewing the flat – all speculate on what happened to the (previous) occupant (who I assume to be a male 'metalhead'). Has he been quite suddenly evicted, and why? Or has he passed away? Of course, my 'metalhead' theory is somewhat confounded by the elaborate centerpiece of this great room – a huge display-cum-open wardrobe. There are hundreds of neatly ironed shirts hanging in well organised rows and many pairs of shoes stored in tidy open drawers for ease of access-
I am at the home of the actor Bruce Willis, an impressive, slender sandstone building with neat white window frames and two smaller corresponding buildings, one for each of his daughters(?). Taken together the three buildings form a private inner courtyard of sorts. The building belonging to his youngest daughter (15 or so years old, the elder 21-ish) is very slim and accessed by external curved stone steps. She is some sort of sculptor/jewellery maker and Bruce is rightly proud of her talents-
I am huddled somewhat by a bunch of people, one of whom in our unavoidable proximity I recognise to be Claire (? a complete, yet familiar, creation of the dreamescape). She has pleasant, plain features with large, slightly sad eyes and sleepy, hooded lids. Her hair is cut short in a boy-ish style. (Is she like an actress from the film The Commitments?).
We are delighted to see each other and even more so when she tells me she has a baby boy. ...the only thing is her child is tiny! He's not only minute but he's (not far off from being) the exact double of the cartoon Mickey Mouse (right down to wearing the same clothes). He sits in the palm of Claire's hand and stares upward, mouthing/gesticulating happily – there is a long lingering 'shot' of him doing just this. I say that I guess he must be bottle fed as his tiny mouth would never be able to accommodate a nipple. Suddenly the wee boy/mouse is off and running and I am terrified he will be accidentally squashed in our efforts to catch him as he dashes in and about the skirting board-
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