Last night’s dream:

I was on a school trip, staying at some hostel (in real life, I’m 33). I’d had a particularly bad day for some reason I can’t remember, and went back to my room in a foul mood. I looked in a mirror and knew something was wrong about the energy in the room. I felt a breeze across my shoulders. Somehow, I knew this meant there was a poltergeist. As I was already pissed off, I didn’t have time for this poltergeist’s nonsense. I screamed, “If you’re going to lift me, then lift me!”. It lifted me. I flew up the ceiling and (gently) hovered about the room.

Bear in mind this was a school trip I was on. Yet I was naked, and an Indian girl was sitting watching me. She looked a bit spooked by the..spook, but was still happy to play on her phone while I flew. I shouted at her to get my teacher, not because I was scared, but because I wanted to prove to her I was right, there had been something off about the place we were staying.

Next, I was part of some detective story. I was searching through the upper floors of a mostly abandoned building in some American city (in real life, I’m in Glasgow). It was dark and spooky, all was metal and oddly shiny. Method Man raced out of the darkness and grabbed me, scaring the shit out of me. He laughed and I realised he was just having fun. Behind him another figure appeared with a stocking mask on. I assumed this was Ghostface Killah (because he looked that way in this Wu-Tang video. It wasn’t Ghostface. He stabbed Meth.

After that I’m not sure what happened. Later, me and my fellow detectives decided that there must be more happening in that building than we suspected. A squad of us headed up to the higher floors. We found hundreds of headstones. The occasional dead cat. The occasional dead person.

Higher still, the floors expanded. In a corner we spotted 80 or so crazy-looking people. They hadn’t spotted us yet, but they would if we made our way into the middle of the room. We made our way into the middle of the room. My fellow detectives remarked, in a very rational way, that the crazies would now give chase, and we’d have to find another way down. We ran out onto some scaffolding and conveniently found a long climbing rope. Some of us started abseiling down. One guy waited. We told that he’d have to move just now, because if he was on the rope when the crazies got onto the scaffolding, they’d cut the rope and he’d fall. He didn’t seem that bothered, and waited to the last second before climbing on.

At the bottom, things had taken a bad turn. For no reason I can understand, citizens were rioting and attacking politicians. I watched from the inside of a limo full of important people (I was watching, I wasn’t any of the people).  The limo driver was trying to race away from the trouble, but decided to stop at a build-up of people at the entrance. Angry people smacked their fists on the car windows. Then darkness started to fall. A cover was being put over the limo. It quickly covered the windows and the car fell into darkness. I remember thinking there was a very Dark Knight Rises feel to it all.

Now I was back as a detective outside the building I’d just abseiled down. I watched two buses race past. The one at the back looked suspicious. It had a strange growth out of its back, as if someone was trying to hide a limo inside it.

That’s all I remember. The previous night I dreamed I was a gangster, and was working with Tony and Chris from The Sopranos, but also Jack Nicholson dressed as Beetlejuice.


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