Tapo

In a similarly sparse environment that formed my last dreamescape, a sort of airless browny/green coloured shopping centre, wide but with low ceilings to the corridors/circulation. It's all very muted and there are no other people around. I am with my mother-in-law and one other person (my brother?). On our right we pass a shop of sorts, the door also to the right, a long, plain window stretching off to our left. The window is full of 60s & 70s styled artwork, not quite as artistic as psychedelic era gig posters, but very bold, often in black and white, with a single, quite striking central image. Many of them make use of (intriguing) science fiction imagery and I am drawn to several of these A4-ish flyers that shamelessly crib from the (original) The Planet of the Apes. One in particular is a black and white image of a soldier ape's head with some brisk and bold lettering above-

I linger outside this shop, admiring the artwork. I go to venture inside but am told (by one for my companions?) that it is in fact a hairdressing salon and that to do so would be a waste of (everyone's) time. In addition it seems that they only do 70s style haircuts and, as if to prove a point, a tall (Japanese anime-esque) woman emerges and immediately engages with me. She sports a huge silvery afro with pieces of 'L' shaped decorative metallic jewellery stuck to her cheek. She is wearing a green bodysuit with a blue bubbled waistcoat-cum-bodywarmer arrangement on top. She has other sci-fi stylings, including knee pads and high, silver boots. A striking black woman, also with a great afro, follows her before another woman (almost identical to the first) exits too-

Fofp

www.fopp.com

I have an exceptionally itchy anus and cannot stop rubbing and scratching at it through my clothes. I am then alarmed to find that the back of my stripey t-shirt is covered in many spots of excrement, from my bottom right on up to shoulders(!) - somehow any attempt to wash these out (by hand) proves fruitless as they sort of disappear beforehand – did I imagine them? - then reappear-

FOPP records is closing and somehow my own DVD collection has been mixed in with their stock. What can I do as one of the (male) staff sweeps great swathes of DVDs off the shelves and into a shopping basket. My only hope lies in the fact that my DVDs are not shrink-wrapped, making their identification somewhat easier. The immediate environment is huge, akin to a dated cinema foyer, small steps here and there in the flooring and a red patterned carpet with black plastic trimmings. Someone says it's such a shame (the imminent closure) as they were so close to a(n underground comic/zine) Khaki Shorts (themed) carpet – indeed, the FOPP DVDs are bound for the (carpet) supplier's company-

Kashmatora

'Loon Fung', an English psychedelic CD I forgot I had. Three of the five members are still alive. 'Kashmatora Mushrooms' CD. It has an orange/white print/logo 'on body' in a white paper slipcase. I am talking to my brother about them-

Fruntallan

Concrete structure with narrow supporting uprights – no windows so instead open from about 1m to 2.5m in height, running in a continuous strip. In the basement of this structure is Missing Records and one of the staff, to my surprise, is launching his band's new CD. I explore the shop's racks and congratulate him (on the CD) on my way out. On going back up and outside it seems to me that the structure is covered in much more graffiti than I recall – a phrase 'NO - -' is daubed on the floor. I go around to my right and walk a bit then take another right and I end up in a basic bar/cafe, all tubular steel tables and colourful, but basic, chairs. I meet my late friend Jay Emm and as we are chatting I am troubled as to whether I should tell him that I know he's going to pass away soon-

Jostom

www.tripadvisor.co.uk

I am buying a (Glasgow) city centre flat with my ex-work colleague Jay Tee. It is a top floor property located in a tenement block in Buchanan Street. (Stuff, water tank on roof will collapse on to us? Fear.) We eventually buy near St Enoch's Square instead. This is in a large complex with an internal atrium. It is very loud and you can constantly hear folk chatting away as well as the crash of empty bottles as the ground floor pub empties their recycling bins. The flat has a balcony and I am terrified – I am crawling in terror along the floor acutely aware of the relaxed social environment around me. The flat has three rooms that all face on to this balcony, their ceilings sloping downward towards a low glass upstand (that evidently serves as the railing)-

Does my little brother buy a flat too, only he purchases one in Buchanan Street? What about his cat?