Stromtle

https://www.metrotimes.com

Square object about an inch thick made of either cake, foam or even formed from thick cream(?). It had the talking face of the American comedian Jerry Seinfeld inset in the surface. It was some sort of party and there was lots of white wine about. The morning after I had to do something-

Ervunt

https://www.irishpost.co.uk

School trip with Alan McGhee and Zed (?), an older ex-secretary from my work. We are out at some kinda fortress/castle where we're all having a picnic. A Cop/Highway patrol guy turns up in a long hatchback car. Playing a tune that isn't, but sounds very like John Squire's 'Transatlantic Near Death Experience'. I run over to ask the cop. He looks a bit like Dennis Weaver (who played McCloud) and is really friendly, saying he thinks the music is '905210'(?) by Bachmann Turner Overdrive. He offers to let you hear it properly. Aye!-

So I go with him and his overweight South American deputy (who has since appeared) into a long wooden shack kinda outhouse building - loads of records on shelves on the r/h wall, the back wall covered in heaps of cds and a tv and video player. Records include The Smiths, Dandy Warhols, The Orb and loads of amazing Spiritualized super-boxed sets I've never seen, including some mega 5 VHS video pack and die-cast space toys. As I try to look through the stuff the deputy keeps moving things to deliberately obscure this and hide that from my view. Dennis meanwhile, is huddled pretty motionless in the corner, his back to me, moving stuff about at low level while unfamiliar music plays-

http://easternncnow.com

The deputy makes to exit. I suddenly, looking at the motionless Dennis, want to follow him - desperately - I now know what happens, I've been here before, but too late - the door is locked shut! I gingerly approach Dennis - I can sort of see from 3/4 back view he's now wearing some sort of white 'killer' mask on his face. I back off, grab up a stool and attack him! He blocks and a bloody fight involving, em, coathangers plus other junk ensues. I cannot bring myself to stab him in  the eye with scissors even though it would mean certain victory-

Eventually he's thoroughly beaten and I pulp and smack him from a distance with some metal stud partition uprights that I will subsequently use to batter open the outhouse door. Sight as I escape is a guy (could be the deputy?) with his hair shot down the middle so that to the sides it looks like mounds/devil horns - he's protesting-

Srummpl

https://nerdist.com

On an earth orbit bio-dome, akin to Silent Running but more stripped back - a simple helping of trees, ponds and pathways. Something tells me the dome is round but the footprint is square? The ponds are raised from the pathways - themselves made of orange training track surface - by about a foot and have thin grass verges around. I know in my head that this dome has regenerated itself. It used to be powered by solar or electricity and now runs on plant energy. I also have an idea that this cycle of regeneration is very quick. There is a False Cypress tree near the corner of a pond and it is broken at the root, lying drowned in the water. I take 3 or 4 small twigs from the tree above the water and know that if I plant them in the ground near the corner of a pond they will grow, and fast. Has everything here regenerated once before? I puzzle over the exact length of this process. Is my mother there? As I sit back to contemplate I realise I have sat on, and crushed, my glasses. Can I have them regenerate too?- 

In a circular lobby with a party of people. Everyone is young, jovial and having a good time. There is a big bubbly blonde girl who I seem to get on well with. This is the entrance to a museum or an exhibition. There is a sudden scrum to get in via a doorway and we are all crushed up against each other. I am part against the female member of staff and she notes, checking my lapel, that none of us have name tags. She manages to take a sticker from the sheet she has in her hand and stick the name 'Jaissin' on my jacket collar. I am amused by her spelling. I must remember and tell my friend Jay Emm, who is there? Thinking of his extravagant laugh? The tight, spiral stair down to the exhibition is in semi-darkness. The stair itself is made from what looks like a dishwasher rack, small, wiry 'U' shaped white loops underfoot and long white support wires running vertically down the sides. I expect this to not be able to support my weight and the moment is tense. The volume of people gives me no option and I am forced on anyway-

We emerge onto a dimly lit underground/metro platform and walk in the only direction we can. We reach a tight bar that runs along some of the platform length. It is walled at either side and open at the platform ends. This, by contrast, is well lit and a black guy and his 2 kids sit at the distinctly retro-styled timber bar. They are ordering cans of juice. I hope to squeeze pass but I cannot, it is not comfortable. He and his eldest son move out the bar to our side to allow us past. Unfortunately none of my group are ready to go - they are all partying in an underground coach. You can only see silhouettes inside and these striking silvery flashes as if triggered by the excited movement. Everyone is yelling and on occasion a bold hand appears, evidently touching the window, making for a startling silhouette effect-

I go on past the bar to the next dark platform. I have a headtorch on now. Ahead of me there is a group of 3 workers sitting eating sandwiches. They sit to the side of a tape cordon that fences off a part of the platform that has subsided on the left. To the right there is a grey, grimy and dilapidated looking coach. I pass them okay, carefully stepping over the cordon and negotiating the sunken structure underfoot. There are more groups of workers/employees further up the platform, all in hard hats and reflective jackets, all in groups of 3, all sitting eating sandwiches, illuminated by my headtorch. The furthest group are sitting not to the side but across the platform. I guess I cannot go any further. As I wait for the train/my group I overhear the middle guy from the group at my back talking about his job, saying, "...so I get to do some stand-up. Not very good..."-

Goturulut

https://www.planetdeadly.com

Three nuclear missiles launched. Explosions. Not like typical mushrooms. Lovely deep blue colour. I seemed to be near where they exploded. Trying to run in and out of their various blast zones. Saw on the news that nuclear war had not started. Very relieved. The missiles had seemingly landed in the sea(?). I then saw hundreds of missiles launched off into the sky. They each floated gently up into the air before some booster jets kicked in and they shot away off into the sky. Cannot remember whether I was actually in Scotland (Edinburgh?) or somewhere in Russia-

Uddule

https://talksport.com

I'm on this quiz show and the host, an Asian comedian who's really famous - only he doesn't exist in reality - and who looks like an overweight, squat version of Chris Kamara (with Samuel L. Jackson's Pulp Fiction-style hair) is asking the questions. Only a bit of the way in he starts doing this mad dancing to this groovy bassline and gradually everybody else joins in. Eventually about 7 folk are doing all sorts of weird moves, flashing by me as I plead with them to just stop-

Briuntal

https://www.dinosaurcorporation.com

Some sort of huge circular shelving, packed like IKEA's furniture warehouse. Only this is for toys and you enter though a great gap in a curved white wall. I am with both my brothers and we are wandering around in this vast place. I examine a Tyrannosaurus Rex on one of the shelves. Although it is facing towards (what looks like a chunky) Star Wars At-At I seem to know that it is intended to (somehow) pull it like a chariot. The T-Rex is fascinating as I keep thinking the texture and look of its 'skin' is very much like a Morton's Roll, crisp and a mottled brown- 

Young girl with long, delicate light brown hair. She has it tied up on top of her head and long and wispy at the back and sides. Simple clothes of a white t-shirt and denims, rolled up a little at the bottom to show white socks. She and her boy pal - it feels to me like one of them likes the other much more than he or she knows - have set up boat rides. Puzzled as thinking she needed money to acquire the boat to then try and make money. It's definitely her dream and she has worked hard for it. At times I'm sure she is on crutches, lifting her right leg-

Dream jump or cut and I am watching the moment where the boy leads the young harbourmaster and the girl's mother to the berth to show what she has been up to. She lies, stiff as a board, on her back in the bushes that look onto the jetty where the boat sits. Clearly picture the bottom of her legs, the white socks and shoes lying so still. Behind her is a knotted white polythene bag with the money she has made. I have a sudden flash of a bold black on white newspaper headline that reads "Dammit! There is nothing worse than a lack of cards!", lying across the ground. The girl lies quite still as the 3 other people chat and gesticulate. The girl is then right with them, making 4, and I hear, and am slightly puzzled by, the harbourmaster saying she had made 30 pounds that was in the white bag. When you try and divide that up by the boat rides and people it doesn't seem like a lot of money to make such a fuss. Then (I think) the boy says something - for some reason a noise prevents me hearing it - and the look on the girl's face is pure heartbreak, absolutely devastating. Then, as if the 5 of us are actors concluding a play - everything thus far has been outside and bright and airy - I walk from the bushes to join them and we go off to the left in single file, filing up past the end of the rows of watching audience in a dark auditorium. I am doing my very best to look calm and together in spite of the crushing sadness I feel inside because of the girl's upsetting and haunting look-