Vondelopsh

Myself and an (ill-defined) A. N. Other are looking into a gloomy room with a table ahead of us. There the singer Sophie Ellis Bextor (or a very good lookalike) is holding court. She produces two envelopes and removes two card statements she wishes us to read. The first I cannot remember but the second says something like, “every minute of every day someone somewhere is being raped.” or “somewhere every moment a man is raping someone.” The impact and shock of this statement is inevitable. She then asks to hear my thoughts on this and I am unable to express myself, caught off guard, making excuses and stumbling over my words – it's an undeniable and harrowing thought -

The dreamescape now transports me outside and I suddenly realise that to my left, emerging out of the anonymous, ill-defined crowd, is my former work colleague Gee Ess, his father standing to the left, nearer to me. I go over (somewhat mindful that Gee's father died over 20 years ago, before he and I ever met). His father is quite surely "played" by the Australian actor Terence Donovan (Jason Donovan's father). I as I get closer, close enough to shake hands, I see that Gee's father has leathery skin, tight and brown over his tired, sunken features. He smiles and acknowledges me but with visible effort. After the father ambles off (around some sort of shallow outdoor pool) Gee remarks that he's not doing well as he is “stiff” (whatever that means). Gee and I continue to catch up and, as we go up and across a sort of railway-esque bridge (presumably over the aforementioned pool) he asks, “have you heard about the Ogilvies?” I admit I haven't, all the while racking my brain, thinking he may be referring to the marriage of one Mark ?, an old mutual friend -

Gee Ess and I then continue around the left side of the pool (following in his dad's shaky footsteps) which is formed from a sort of chunky slabbing that runs into a sturdy and primitive bus shelter-alike stepped structure. I'm busy making some point about being young and having no motivation and all the time, as opposed to being old with no motivation but no time (or words to that effect) when I spy the author Stephen King poking his head around the corner of this construct. He is smiling and in complete agreement - “how true.” We're almost past but I cannot resist praising Mr. King (whilst apologising profusely for doing so) on his novel 'salem's Lot. I begin by saying I'm 46 years old and thought it was time, considering my father is a lifelong fan, to read one of his books and explaining, not always clearly, how much I admired the writing and the way that one's imagination takes over, creating another layer of true horror/dread. As I wrap up this muddled appraisal a gaggle of fans come by and accost Stephen -

Hawamay

https://home-and-away-soap-opera.fandom.com

Climbing up a huge oil rig structure. Four of us, myself, my two brothers and my father. At first we were inside the structure but as we neared the top we went outside. Now very shaky and insecure structure. Typical external metal stairs with tubular metal handrails. The gaps revealing the height we were at. It felt quite unsafe. Then reached the bit that my father wanted to. It was a small cab. Inside was a dead person. He had been there for 6 years and had not decomposed. He looked like Nick Parrish, the policeman from Home And Away- 

He had a bullet wound on he left side of his chest. My little brother braved the situation and went into the cab and sat the body up as if he was reading a comic. He left a Beano comic to his left too. Like so. I lit a candle outside and went in and looked into his dead eyes. My little brother was waiting outside and the others had gone down a level. I threw the candle in to torch the place. It caught fire. I felt at last that the body would rest in peace. My little brother and I ran down the stairs, catching up with the other two below the cab. We told them to get a move on in case the fire brought the ceiling down on us. I told my father what I'd done as we continued to descend-

Momvith

http://www.neighboursepisodes.com

Walking up through the pillar bits of Glasgow (the big buildings up by the University) with my friends Ess Ess, Pee Bee and Eee Eff. We walked past a pillar and a prostitute behind it came out and started following us. Freaky! I threw something over my shoulder and it hit her in the face. Frightened I apologised. By the time we reached Kelburn Primary School playground and turned round the prostitute had been replaced by a young, cute red-headed girl (who looked like Melanie from Neighbours). She was asking me out. Thinking about it I asked what age she was. She said she was 12 and Eee Eff exclaimed loudly, unbelievably, "12??!" She said that she was joking and that she was 16. I was 19. Pee Bee was laughing the way he does. Meanwhile another friend, Aye Pee, was telling Ess Ess that he was going to absolutely kick his head in. The girl asked me for my phone number. I gave her it and took hers also. Her number was 0471 63352-

Arrhunne

http://www.neighboursepisodes.com

Helen Daniels from Neighbours. Loads of balloon/parachute-type things. These suddenly started whooshing up in the air for no apparent reason. She was totally crapping it. Very scary-

Pirglallap

http://www.neighboursepisodes.com

Long queue of women down a dog-leg stairwell. At the top there was a push door. Here, near to the front, was (Anne Charleston,) the woman who played Madge in Neighbours. Travelling down the stairs I passed her and, desperate to say her real name I simply blurted out "Madge!" in recognition. She looked startled and began to grumble in her trademark throaty voice to the women around her. Further down the steps I met my mother, who was younger here, and she urged me to go back up, reminding me that I knew Madge's real name. Convinced I could recall her name for sure I made my way to the landing below, pushing past all the smartly dressed ladies. But as soon as I saw Madge ahead of me and she, in turn saw me, I anxiously yelled "Helen!" with enough vigour to make it sound wholly sincere. Madge tutted in her inimitable style, letting her mouth drop open in disdain. I ran back down the stairs, more squashed by my surroundings than before. My mother again reassured me and on my third attempt I did indeed manage to exclaim "Anne!"-