Category Archives: Dreams

My screen starts to squirm and all the words I’ve written on it form cones that reach out to me. I fight them off and now I’m engaged in a violent struggle with my screen, my desk, my body and my chair.

I’m nothing but the exterior of my body: skin, hair, nails, eyes. I go to the shops with a weightless feeling, being hollow inside. I head for the city hall on some obscure mission, with shopping bags I find hard to carry, and when I reach the door I crumple and wake up.

I’m drinking wine from a cracked glass. The wine runs down my arm and my legs. I vomit, pour more wine in the glass, drink, vomit, etc.

I dream that I’m drifting between wakefulness and sleep, which in fact I am. I tell myself off for not being able to sleep, try the yogic technique of visualising a spiral and thereby wake myself up.

I dream that I awake to find all the objects and fixtures in my room rearranged in the manner of various rooms I’ve lived in. I don’t know where I am. But this doesn’t disconcert me, in fact it’s almost reassuring, and nicer than waking up in my actual room. I go with the dream, prolonging it.

The open door to my bedroom and the archway to the bathroom stare at me like great black eyes. The light switches between them seem to harbour something sinister. I’m annoyed at myself for leaving the door open, it’s not like me. Was I that drunk? I reach out to close it and fall into the shower having somehow turned it on.

I sit up and look at the disused fireplace, lit up by a sunbeam. Is it morning or afternoon? Dust motes fill the room. Something crawls down the chimney and peeks its head out of the fireplace and I awake in a sweat.