October 31st 2019. Claya R. is at the foot of the ladder. I am some rungs up, but not too many. There's a long way to go yet before I reach the window. The window is ajar. "If you just get in and then open the front door, let me in," she says. November … Continue reading dream diaries…73
September 19th 2019. Rising up out of Monument metro station. The steps are greasy. The final strains of some saxophone jazz. There is a dead wasp on a step. It has lost almost all colour. When I reach Grey Street the sax noise falls away and I see that it came from a tape machine … Continue reading dream diaries…72
June 30th: Whyteleafe. Old time London town: shadowed cobbled streets, high-rise (but Tudor). The buildings so high that the sky is a slot of scudding cloud. Heavy wooden doors, many panelled dusty windows. I am being chased by unseen forces; their boot falls echo off the walls. I push open a door and begin to … Continue reading dream diaries…67
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