Poddle

Climbing up some enclosed shaky timber ladder, emerging into-

Two small boys and their tiny beds – foldable plastic fabric coated constructs that click together via metal poppers at each corner (presumably so they can be packed down flat between times)-

Now two older boys (aged 8-10-ish) and I am talking to one of them. He has a round face, smiling blue eyes and a shock of short, but scruffy, ginger hair. His nose, by contrast, is like that of a Muppet, round (stuck on!), with a wide nostril to each side. It is bright yellow with round green spots dotted over its surface. Talking to him I notice that the right nostril has a small 'chip' to its left (and I cannot help but think that I 'picked' that away)-

Nofsur

My uneven bottom teeth seem to be fragmenting, slipping and falling forward, tumbling in my gums, almost flaking off in sharp, slender strips. My top teeth are suddenly gone too, replaced by a single, central sliver of a tooth (almost Nosferatu-like)-

Zarple

I am with my good comic artist friends John Miller and Ay Ess. They have both produced wonderful (and wonderfully different) new comic strips. John is working in a strange but beautiful stripped-back pencil style, fluid and rounded. I am puzzled by how unlike his usual work it is. On the other hand Ay has produced a slick, realistic piece – I'm looking at a lovely three quarters splash (page) of a woman with such delicate linework and lovely, sympathetic feathering inks that give it/her superb shape and depth. I'm so happy, if a little jealous (and crushed) that they've both upped their respective games-

On closer inspection John's work becomes almost like a slide, an immersive, layered experience that I am almost inside, a strange, fuzzy, black and white film-esque image that gently shifts as I explore it, looking around within it with my eyes-

Fotrill

Myself, Kay Emm and our baby son are back at our old flat. Having not lived there for over a year we still have plenty sets of keys and have just stayed there overnight. I am anxious to leave before the new owner returns, flying into a panic when I spot her driving into the rear car park. I greet her at the front door and make some (implausible and garbled) speech in an attempt to explain why we still possess keys. She (thankfully) seems to be quite okay with this explanation and, when pressed, does not seem at all annoyed by the hidden 'quirks' we left behind (without obviously telling her about them). We go into the larger of the back bedrooms which, this being the dreamescape, feels more like the front lounge of my childhood home, being spacious with a big bright window. The one exception is in here, a thick 'seam' of green moss that runs along the centre of the floor and rises, curving up like a sharp, thin skate ramp, a few feet. I'm taken aback by this and am shocked when the owner suggests (by simply letting my imagination do the rest) that she's not going to do anything about it... but that, cue raised eyebrow, her lawyer is-

We are trying to leave when an old neighbour, seen leering in at us from outside, is keen to talk (and therefore likely accost) us-