Rostosene

I am climbing up and over a huge organic sort of statue that has grown amidst a mighty sandstone columned construct. The statue's original form is a seated human body with a dog-like shaped head. Scaling this giant beast takes much time and care as it has grown (out from the original form?) a series of small branches and twigs, budding, yet to blossom. My timeous route takes me up and over by the head-

I am now at a The Stone Roses concert. I am in a small backstage-ish area formed of what seems to be an L-shaped tent. Ian Brown is puzzling patiently over a sort of squeeze-sack instrument that is lying on the ground. I understand it its melancholy sighing wheeze is crucial to the outro to a (presumably reworked version of the song) Fools Gold. The fact that Ian is unable to get much (amplified) noise from this bizarre instrument – it seems there's a tube out one end that you can put in your mouth – is quite apparent when I duck outside. Whatever crowd, sitting around in small groups on gentle, grassy hills, bathed in sunlight, there was is beginning to drift off, taking the lack of (audible) music as a sign the gig is over. However, back in the tent – which actually seems to be the stage? - Mani and Reni have taken to grooving out 'Rock The Casbah' by The Clash. They are both cavorting, posing with their guitars(?) in a circle, somehow playing immaculately while pulling off these exaggerated rockstar-pose theatrics-

Kinpum

I am with a young black and white cat and a humanoid with a pumpkin head, no skin, just the perfectly smooth flesh, the classic skeletal features gently carved into it. (Is my old University friend Gee Gee also there, for her aura and presence fades in and out of the surrounding dreamescape). Whatever adventures we've been through – there's every suggestion the pumpkinhead and myself are somewhat at odds to one another – we currently seem united(-ish) in the face of some crippling lethargy that has gripped us. I am desperately encouraging the cat to eat a (perfectly peeled) apple that it is chewing sluggishly, spitting out the globs of mashed pulp as it goes. The pumpkinhead fares even worse, his (normally orange) flesh drained of all colour so that it matches the washed-out apple.

Kcud

 Duck | Definition, Types, & Facts | Britannica

“Duck integration.”

Phoenfll

 

The first hen fell to the powershop-

Oentaec

The band Acetone are on Swedish or Norwegian television. We're late. I'm sitting with the three members. Ritchie Lee, with close cropped hair, sits opposite me with drummer Steve Hadley to my left and guitarist Mark Lightcap to my right. The two of them stare directly into my face, looming large and framing the face of the silent Ritchie. They offer me a bong and ask, "are you with us or not?" It is clearly three against one so I partake, sucking on the bong as Steve and Mark blow rings of dope smoke towards me. Ritchie does not take part so I remember thinking, it's three against one in that sense too-

The BBC are are showing an alt-country television special shot in a tiny studio. They screen some very short footage of Acetone (but then, thankfully!) follow it with an epic show, two sets of material from the York Blvd. album that I luckily managed to scramble and tape/record off the tv. They play 'Things Are Gonna Be Alright' and it is chaotic - Steve plays a l/handed guitar(?) while Mark plays piano (or drums?). The pair of them stand very close together, joshing one another, their two arms interlocked, the song/riff collapsing in a (dopey) cacophony. They stop and do a cover version-

Acetone - Things Are Gonna Be Alright (Demo)

Rashngr

Slash from Guns 'n' Roses steps up to do a (bad, mumbled) impersonation of Geoffrey from the children's television show Rainbow over a picked guitar backing-

Caampetraiicna

The Hollywood actor Chris Evans is dressed as Captain America (the stubbly non-helmet wearing version). We are in my house together with my parents and older brother. For some reason things are taking far too long so my brother, myself and our son(?) don't have time to go and visit our gran. We eat a meal of frustratingly bony fish-

Chris is going to play golf (“incognito!?” I jest). He and I stand face-to-face. He doesn't seem that tall, being about my height, but he is super fit, build almost like a slender action figure with obligatory exaggerated (but somehow still proportional) musculature. I ask him if he is still undertaking a training program – indeed, the whole dreamescape is almost like an interview in a sense. I think, but don't actually ask, about the complex technical versus physical process of actually making a MARVEL movie-

On a train we consider Skyping my gran only she has no internet-

I am now driving a car and we pass my friend Jay Dee. He is casually reclining against the wall of a takeaway while his partner wheels their baby daughter in a pram. Jay looks slick, styled and goes into the takeaway as we pass-