It is the dead of night and I am my the sea. Everything is dark: the sand is black and the water is covered completely by a dark blue foamy film. A boy gets into a speedboat which is like a rectangular orange bucket and heads off into the sea. I swim out nervously through the blue foam. I see the boy struggle and nearly capsize. I swim near to him and notice he is dressed in an entirely black spiderman type costume that covers all of him including his head. I am fearful for him. I swim back toward the shore.

I am in a building, it might be my home, though not my real home. My son has been playing a kind of hiding game with me. There are a number of graves and coffins about and I can’t find him. He has hidden himself in one of the graves and now I can’t find where he is. I hope he has not made a dreadful mistake.

A series of interconnected dreams: I am working in an office, showing two men something when my phone rings. Its my elderly mother and all of us can hear her trembling voice. She is saying ‘Have I heard what Captain Scarlet has been saying?’. She is worried about something but the men burst out laughing. ‘Captain Scarlet says I shouldn’t accept the parcel’. In a desperate voice she repeats ‘What is happening to me?’. I hang up.

Then I am on a train journey back to London or somewhere I live. It is a small train that snakes through a curving and hilly track. My phone rings again and it is either my mother or my dead father talking to me about her. I miss my stop, searching frantically for my rucksack with my computer in it.

I end up having to stay in a hotel, after considering joining the young people sleeping in the open. I wake up in the night and can see the reflection of a woman’s face in the air directly above me. Its rather frightening even though I am trying to think of rational explanations. I close my eyes and am awoken by a skinny woman sitting on my bed. She says ‘I am really interested in toilets but you look attractive’. She is keen to have sex with me. I get up out of bed saying ‘I think not’. I lead her to my hotel room door where there is a man dressed in a female nursing sister’s dark blue uniform. I give the woman to him. He is a psychiatric nurse and she has escaped. I wonder around the neighbourhood. It is about 5 in the morning and just getting light. I watch youg girls in corset shops practising putting corsets on shop dummies.

I was travelling with a few others in Poland, not really Poland but a country with an oppressive regime and secret police. One local warned me that small groups of secret police roam the streets and expect total silence when they approach. If anyone fails to comply they are forced to eat rotten meat. A little later I am talking merrily in the street and realise that everyone around me has become tense and silent. I notice, out of the corner of my eye 4 or 5 men standing around me looking more like monkeys in light grey suits and light grey faces. One comes up to me and first hangs a piece of rotten meat over my face then commands me to eat it. He has a gun pointed to my head. He indicates particularly rotten and bright red pieces for me to eat. I notice that it doesn’t really taste that bad. Then he offers me a can of some liquid which I assume is urine to wash this down with. I realise that I am not terrified but key into the humiliation of the event.

After an evening at Geoff’s I had two vivid and somehow interconnected dreams:

I was the leader of an alternative house church. The house in question was very small (like my own only smaller) and lemon yellow and a turquoisey-green were strong colours that predominated. I had a partner or wife and she had a gift for spiritual discernment. She looked steadily into people in the church’s eyes. She herself was small, incredibly white and unhealthy looking – in fact quite frightening.

Then I was in a room with two other men (o no – I’ve just realised the Jesus being crucified implications of this) and we were sentenced to death and being prepared for death by lethal injection the next day. I was still sort of the same person from the earlier dream. I asked the doctor or guard for a shot of IV valium to calm me and produced my arm with protruding white tube like veins telling him how easy my veins are to inject as they are so prominent. I get a shot which I watch go into my white vein but it makes no difference.

Then the 3 of us are in a hotel for the night. I am quite resigned to the lethal injection tomorrow but in the end decide to get out and run off, maybe climb out of the window. In the end I go to the basement where there is some kind of rave going on and graffitti on the walls (it reminds me of Berlin which I have recently visited).

The dream ended there.

Strange, either my son or I was about to drill into someone’s scull from above with an electric drill. There was a special bit we had to use and the procedure was for some spiritual or generally useful purpose.