Birble

Agent Johnny in full clown garb, one piece white suit complete with red bobbles up the front and a white pointy hat with a furred band. I was upset he was wearing black stockings, stitched in a ribbed pattern, and no shoes, so much so that I scolded him to the point he was quite ashamed. I broke off to cross the road to pursue a man who I knew was the greatest comic collector and knowledge in the world. I was crossing near or under a railway bridge, such as that in Partick. I approached him from the back as he paced in irregular steps, slightly hunched. His face, when I finally saw it, had an elaborately drawn Victorian-esque moustache on his cheeks and chin. This drawing, in blue ink, had been made by several children who he claimed were following and pestering him-

Next thing I was in a Housing Association office attempting to find Agent Johnny's new address as he was no longer at his old one. I had lost track of him while I encountered the famed comic collector. Despite sharing last names, as soon as the staff figured out I was not a relative they told me they could not help me. Exasperated, I left in disgust-

Klatert

At some sort of strange party/house. Host a sort of House Of Elliot-type with blond curled bob and black hat. In a small toilet looking for a shower. Shower is part of the main space, a large vintage metal showerhead with a clear polythene sheet/bag attached to keep the water in. Suddenly aware my penis is sticking out of my clothing (a sort of grey long johns, cut off above both knees and elbows). It's like a monkey's cock, a thin, ruddy dried sausage. Embarrassed I quickly tuck it away before any of the guests notice-

Trying to escape a large L-shaped house. This belongs to Gee Arr and he's showing my little brother and I around. One part is solidly built with few windows, the other 3 storeys are floor to ceiling glazing throughout, lit up brightly inside as it's night. Can we escape in the truck with a trailer? It's stacked with barrels. A black clad figure performs a fantastic somersault from the 3rd floor into the garden in the midst of spectacular fireworks/explosions. He lands where we are-

https://www.hakes.com/

Young animals. There's a young black and white furry animal (a skunk without the tail?), a tortoise (without a shell) and a lion cub. These belong to Jay Gee. He has been away and has returned and the animals are now fully grown. The large skunk-like cat walks past very close to me. The great, leathery tortoise/snake is next. The lion threatens Jay Gee and prepares to bound into the room. Jay Gee knocks the Jimmy The Hapless Idiot Boy Jumbo Doll to one side as the lion leaps into the small bedroom and places a paw on his/my head-

On a sparse office floor looking for an access code. Ess Ess is at a desk typing on a computer while a woman is perched on the end on the phone. She talks to Ess Ess normally but is impersonating an Irish accent on her call. They are competing with each other for something. The woman gets it first. The code (they were after) is 4597. Robert Merritt-

Anvennerett

Mr Cee was teaching us in primary 6 class at school. Our classroom was in a huge windmill. Excellently furnished, like a house as opposed to a school, with great comfy chairs and fresh, fluffy carpets. Huge, eye-shaped, window to the front looking out onto fields of straw, the floor curving up at the edges ever so slightly to accommodate this. In many ways the exterior was formed much like the Sydney Opera House with huge overlapping planes (of wood construct?). The scary thing was that when it was windy the large viewing (class)room rotated and moved about with the force of this. We were taught as a class in this situation. At one point it got so bad that we were clutching on to the furniture as it was so scary-

Nannzarrith

In this sort of multi-cultural event, a sort of Mela affair, where there are lots of Indian women, dressed traditionally in muted reds/burgandy, sitting in approx. rows round long tables stitching similarly coloured garments. All have thick, black curly hair – sort of dead, oily, all-absorbing black, saturated – cascading down over their shoulders. I look as I walk and when they look back their eyes are red and bloodshot from the evident strain. It is when I fully recognise the girl from the Post Office, having not been sure at first, that the red, tiredness of her eyes fully jumps out, almost brimming with tears as my identity hits home with her. I then circled the event some more, making my way between the tables and other visitors, my mind always returning to this 'snapshot' of her eyes burning into mine-

I'm in a queue now, waiting behind some French people who seem to be taking forever at the cash register. I'm hoping to purchase what looks like a French stick, but is in fact a vast yum-yum. I absently pick at this as I wait, enjoying the glazed sugar. It seems I am buying this as well as time. The girl from the Post Office gets up, offering to make tea for her fellow workers, gathering up their cups, glancing in my direction several times as she does so. I understand. She heads off to an old Belfast ceramic sink that, though it is out of sight, seems clearly located next to a window in my now anxious mind. The French couple continue to haggle-

I emerge from a step/rooflight onto a semi-flat, semi-angled, neatly slated roof. I can hear great football chants being roared in the distance but the only pitch I can see from this high vantage point is a sparsely populated affair, bringing to mind lower league or Sunday football. An Indian woman in a red dress sweeps past me, heading back down into the building, away from the invigorating sunlight-

I am now lying in a pool of sun with the Post Office girl. We are both sad, snuggling closer as we recall our lack of time and lost, long gone opportunities. Though her mouth is close to mine I confess I have a girlfriend. She laughs and talks about how could she think of her children. I don't immediately accept this, being a little shocked, but I know for a fact she mentioned no husband-

Kladdles

On a stony beach with some folk. Bad weather/night is slowly creeping in from the right hand side. Strange maroon shape sweeping in from there and I realise it's not a cloud as it passes in front of a distant island. It's a huge square sail, curled back and forth on itself evenly from top to bottom, on what is a large raft. On the raft is a giant white horse and a blonde woman, also clothed totally in white. They come ashore. The horse is frightening as it roams here and there but I have an urge to go near it. Now at a hotel at night. I approach the horse and once close enough it happily follows me up the wide stairs and through a set of large glass doors on to the roof terrace. With a mixture of awe and trepidation I watch it dash about-

Now on a giant cruise ship/ferry. We are coming in to dock. I am walking (at the head of a crowd) up a wide timber deck. Ahead of me is a woman. She's wearing a denim captain's hat, a blue and white horizontally striped long sleeve top and denim hotpants. I overhear a woman behind me saying she is just walking this way simply to follow her. I can/can't quite see the face of the woman up ahead, but am sure I have seen her about on the ship. She's about 1/3 profile. I'm quite aware she's smiling to herself, the way beautiful people do, sure of the attention of hopeless saps like myself. I pick up pace and she exits on the left through doors marked "staff only". I go through the next set of doors, part of me thinking I'll double back and meet her. There are some folk coming towards me, but not her. I take a door on my right into a toilet. I am in the lobby and there is nothing there. It's a faded dark blue, the walls and floor mottled, the sound of water running/dripping, the air heavy with moisture. A door ahead of me opens and a huge guy in a beanie hat stands there. He says something friendly but unintelligible in a thick Scottish accent. I reply in an upbeat, non-committal fashion and he laughs. I walk past him, down a shallow slope into the toilets. I say I'm glad of the slope as it makes me understand why he seems so tall compared to me. He says something else, laughs and we do a fist bump (which dwarfs my tiny hand) and he leaves. I enter a (large) toilet cubicle. Low on the wall there seems to be a sink with a plastic lid. (Everything in here is the same mottled blue.) I tip the lid up with my foot. It is filled to the brim with foamy water. I decide I cannot balance that with my foot and pee. I look at the floor and there is a large-ish hole there. Part of this is covered by a broken grill. I think to myself that this hole is for crapping-

Selledinn

http://www.kasabian.co.uk/

At a gig to see Kasabian at a Glasgow venue quite similar to The Garage (but mashed in part into the stylings of Edinburgh's Banshee Labyrinth), though this seemed to be over 3 levels and had lots of corridors, being quite 'mazey'. Seemed very easy to get lost. There were only 22 people at the gig - this number was continually fixed in my mind - and they were not really responding to the music at all. I recall thinking that Kasabian were used to playing to crowds of 50,000, wondering why they were playing to such a small group. People, including Kay Emm, were lying sleeping on the floor and there were jackets piled up all over the place. I had my Fender Guitar with me - it too was just lying on the floor - and there were shopping bags strewn about. Jay Dee was there and he had his shopping in a Sainsbury's Elephant Bag-

http://www.wpp.com/wpp/

I was sure it was full of Budweiser beer and that he was sharing them out. I decided I wanted another drink, pretty sure I'd had 2 cans of beer already. I then wanted to find my jacket as I knew I had 2 packs of Wrigley's Extra (green) chewing gum, one of which had 1 single piece of gum the other had 4 pieces. I found that in a pile and searched the pockets. I looked in Jay Dee's bag for beer and was surprised to find a tin of Heinz Baked Beans and vegetable soup. There was a single can of lager, in a pale grey tin, something like 'First Choice: Scottish Lager' - I knew this was cheap beer and didn't want it-

http://collider.com/

At this point I approached the stage. The singer Tom Meighan (who was or looked exactly like the actor Michael Shannon) and I had a little chat. I was perplexed at their performance and asked, "why don't you use your secret weapon?" He replied, "you're our secret weapon." The band then left the stage. I wanted a whiskey and coke (though in the back of my mind I was searching for one I'd already half drunk) so I said to someone to tell the band to wait as I'd be back in 2 minutes. I was anxious as I negotiated the stairs and corridors of the venue. I could then see the bar and-

Welcome....

....to Eclectic Dreamzzz. Around May last year I began writing down my dreams when I woke up and started thinking I'd get a blog of these strange, baffling and exciting experiences underway. In part this is due to the fact that I already have a typed archive of older dreams, from around 2007-ish, and a further handwritten archive (with sketch illustrations on occasion) dating back to around 1994 - there are even some skeletal notes from this period on several particularly memorable dreams I had even prior to that.

I've decided I will put the dreams up more or less alternating back and forth through these different time zones (but always in chronological order, from the first to the last/present). As such, my most recent dreams will be Labelled 'ZZZ', those from 10 years or so ago Labelled 'ZZ', and the oldest dreams Labelled as 'Z'. As blogger allows each Label to be used to filter postings, so each era can viewed alone as it progresses should anyone wish.

As you might expect, there's plenty of famous faces and unusual product placement invading my sleep, so I will be making sure to credit the (website) source of any images used for illustrative purposes. However, unless I feel it is critical to the dream from a certain point of view, individuals and friends from my personal/past life will not be named directly in any postings. Instead, for example, a name like David Jones will appear instead as Dee Jay and Claire McAdams as Cee EmmCeeAy. Each dream typically terminates or jumps/cuts to another scene, etc. with a '-' 

Okay, let's go....

Ships That Bite In The Night