Chasing heroin with Alaster G in a cheap hotel. The hotel is so cheap that it is constructed from ply board – rather like a set on an old western.
Hannah J arrives. We three are sat in the doorway, the cowboy desert stretches into the distance. AG wanders off on all fours imitating a gorilla and HJ follows him and gives him a BJ.
I’m pissed off so I go back in and rifle through the foil scraps.
The dream is illuminated by ‘cheap lighter strikes’ and soundtracked by ‘pleasured groans’ (*who may, or may not, be once a very good band, but will, no doubt, be a great album in the future!).
Carshalton in the 1960s still looks and feels as I imagine it did in the ’30s and ’40s; affluent, English, sedate, exquisitely lit by late summer sun, etc. Unseen birds sing in the pines.
Brad McV is driving a small car – it is a Fiat 500 (which, in itself is very funny to me). It is, perhaps, stolen: let’s hope so. He drives it fast. He drives it recklessly.
The car is packed … Brad McV, Phil M, Caroline P, Jess C & me. We are careened left and right, left and right. A police car gives chase, sirens wailing!
Brad McV stops at Pinewalk and we all get out into morning sunlight and wait for the police. Jess C disappears but I find a letter from her in my pocket – Her childlike handwriting informs me that she has returned again to Liverpool (although I know at once that this is a mistake and that she really means Manchester). She apologises and includes a list of gig tickets, train tickets, etc. How sad.
Before the police arrive I decide to walk away. I am walking in Roman sandals.
After a long march I reach Carshalton high street. It is now the twenty-first century. As I am stood at a dry stone wall trying to figure out how to tie the laces on these sandals I see Nick B, Angela F, Mik T, Kenny B and Tommy K in the garden of a pub. They are singing songs from the 1940s. I must tie these laces before going to see them.
A scrawny black and ginger cat is discovered living in an unused room in a large, rambling house. I can feel its spine beneath its fur.
© dream diaries / Vol 1.
1-100 nick reeves 2020