Raquan

I am in some sort of cafe/bar environment. I am in a quandary over what to buy for my lunch. There is a lady with a baby sitting nearby. I end up with an uninspired ham and lettuce open sandwich. My old neighbour Gee EmmCeeEmm offers me half of her unfinished sandwich. I just know it's tuna (on her breath?) and refuse-

I am waiting in line to pay. For some reason the lady with the baby (though without it now) is reclining behind the counter. She is dark and somehow sultry, dressed in black with a firm figure and strong features. Whatever she is doing her black suit jacket is open enough to expose her shadowy cleavage, her lemon shaped breasts – I can spy a nipple! - hanging loose in an ill-fitting top/shift. Is she about to feed the absent child? I try (not) to look yet study in fascination as I pay £20 for my lunch. The lady sits with her legs spread showing black tights up to deep blue panties that are stretched, to my disbelief, wide. I pay, puzzled at the price, and hunt for a bathroom-

I am holding my huge disembodied p*nis, ruddy as if of clay, in my right hand. I hold it against my smooth groin and check that it is as long as my left forearm-

Hyontuh

I am out walking with my older brother and my American brother-in-law. My son and my brother-in-law's sons are very much in mind – I'm conscious of their presence – if not in body. We are strolling (in Reno?) somewhere and I need to leave them to get something? -

I next find myself at the house of my old Largs Primary/Secondary school friend Enn Tee in John Street(?). The home has been extended in every direction to form a 'Community Library' with a very warm, rustic and casual coffee shop feel inside, the books tucked into timber shelves around the perimeter, the airy central space rising three storeys up to a vaulted(?) ceiling complete with roof lights. Enn sits just within the entrance and, to my surprise, is wearing a nun's habit. After some random, muddled browsing we acknowledge one another and start chatting (a little awkwardly). When she takes down her habit's hood she has short blonde wiry afro hair that is, oddly, growing over her temples. Some other old school friends – Ess? + two other males and a woman – sit chatting to our left. They are all much older but their faces are still identifiable. By contrast (and thankfully) none of them recognise me -

I am walking back to join our family party when my shoes get stuck in mud. At this point (now shoeless?) I am scared as a large alsatian dog – in a near-rerun of a frightening childhood experience – darts out some nearby bushes and leaps and bounds around me. I immediately put up my hands in surrender, hoping the owner is correct in that the dog “just wants my stick”, again a direct callback to the my younger self's incident  -

I am now explaining, with the help of a Google Maps-esque 3D map, how Enn is presently a nun and has converted her old house to create a library -

Wogert

I am with (a young version) of the musician Roger Waters and a vague ill-defined woman. Roger's mantra seems to be “f*ck it!”, and a loud exclamation of this prompts many rash actions, including sliding and skidding carefree down a steep sandy slope on our bottoms to a beach. I draw the line at the next, smaller, slope as it's more akin to rubble, and not the sort of surface you'd giddily slide down. I'm aware we need to be at my parents' house for dinner – I can see the uncooked fillets of fish, isolated in my mind's eye, awaiting us – but have no means of contacting them, although I keep referring to my mobile for the time. It's 5:05 – did I doze off? -

Yeooz

I am at (or after) the dentists and need to make another appointment. The receptionist girl at the front desk is Ay Dubya (formerly of Kelvingrove Dental Care). Although she is visually morphing within the dreamescape I know it is her and go along with her fluctuating appearance as matters progress. She advises me not to book my next appointment here as this could lead to confusion and/or a double booking, and she'll show me where to go. At this point she is unrecognisable, with a strong profile and long curly hair, a complete transformation from her actual gently pretty Zooey Deschanel-esque looks -

Cut to a sudden close-up of her (changed) face and the freckles around her cheeks and nose radiate and illuminate with genuine warmth and affection as she fixes me with a loving gaze. This then cuts to an isolated cartoon/manga-style face that floats in the air, hearts popping at the side, the eyes wide and near-bulging -

I enter a large square lift, dimly lit and semi-industrial. A few other patients linger as I work out from the notice on one side that the floor for dentistry is 'Saturday'(?). It turns out it's not a lift, the whole space suddenly pulling out into the light as part of a bus, revealing the glazing and grab handles. “Hold on!”, exclaims the chunky young woman to my right as I stagger to keep my footing and clutch at a nearby upright to steady myself while the bus races across the rainy roof(?) of this huge and amorphous hospital. I cannot help but think of the sheer weight of the vehicle as I stand and look out through the front windscreen in disbelief -