Archive for June, 2009

Uninvited guests

Posted in Dreams on 23 June 2009 by nicholasroyle

We – Kate and I, I think – stay in someone’s house, having been told it’s OK to do so, while they’re not there. But, they return and either they’re not who we’d been expecting or they are but they hadn’t been expecting anyone to be in their house and they don’t know who we are. ‘I know what that must feel like,’ I say, ‘to come back and find not only that there are people in your house, but that they are complete strangers.’

We pack up and leave, but, having left, we have to go back for something left behind. I see they’ve left a basket of washing, all of which I had folded, outside, where it has been rained on. Someone helps me take it in and while looking for whatever had been left behind I see a cup of tea perched on top of a cupboard where I’d left it while having a shower. I pour it away in the washbasin and it overflows, leaving pools of tea-coloured water everywhere. I try to wash this away with clean water. Only partially successful.

Something about M John Harrison, about recommending one of his stories to one of the three or four grown-up sons who live in the house. Self-consciously, I refer to Harrison as ‘Mike’, to show how well I know him. (22/06/09)



Posted in Dreams on 22 June 2009 by nicholasroyle

Scrabble. There’s a woman who wants to play but she has a sign around her neck saying that she has a disability that would affect her performance. Perhaps dyslexia. I’m not sure how easy she will find it to get a game.

On a tube, overground, heading east on the Hammersmith & City line. In front of me – the seats are all facing forward like on a bus – a middle-aged woman with a clipboard. She’s trying to recruit people to a charitable cause. She sits down next to a middle-aged man who puts his arm around her. They seem to know each other.

I get off. I can see a big white building outside the station. A sign saying ‘Stadium’. I think it must be Barbican station although I then recognise the architecture of Earl’s Court Exhibition Centre and start to read the name. I want to get back on the train and avoid ticket inspectors, as I don’t have a ticket. The train, I now see, is pulled by two Class 20 diesel locomotives in BR livery. I can’t see the number of the one in front, but the second one is 20 090, albeit printed in an unusual script. I get back on the train, which sets off. No ticket inspectors have got on. (21/06/09)

Kneeling dummies

Posted in Dreams on 21 June 2009 by nicholasroyle

Walking down Uxbridge Road in Shepherd’s Bush. On the pavement is a kneeling figure in a concealing costume. Metallic. Can’t see the face, so can’t be sure if it’s a dummy or if there’s someone in there. There’s no sign of legs sticking out at the back, suggesting that it is a dummy, but I walk around it gingerly all the same, having a good close look, just in case.

At a football match, in the front row, but we’re the only people watching that I’m aware of, as if the match is being played just for us (me and one or two others, unidentified). Similarly, I’m only aware of two players and the referee. There’s an incident. The two players – one black, one white – stand absolutely still, each wearing the same expression of wide-eyed plaintive bafflement as they wait for the referee to pronounce. They are frozen in position and the referee is saying nothing, so I shout out, urging him to make a decision, but he waits and he waits. He disapproves of my shouting out, which seems to be causing him to delay further.

Later, there are more kneeling figures. I get down and examine one that has smooth forearms folded across its chest. From under a visor, a pair of watchful eyes stare back at me. It looks alive, but I can’t be sure. I discuss the dummies with the people I’m with. I say they’re not threatening. They suggest they are, because of the beseeching implied by their kneeling positions. (20/06/09)

Italian prostitutes

Posted in Dreams on 21 June 2009 by nicholasroyle

Some kind of ad hoc survey of Italian prostitutes finds that they are happy to sleep with each other. Suddenly their bookings go through the roof. (11/06/09)

Severed head

Posted in Dreams on 11 June 2009 by nicholasroyle

Sitting at a desk somewhere doing some work. On the desk, on the left-hand side staring up at me, is my head. Somehow this can be explained and can make a kind of sense. I can pick it up and look at it through my own eyes despite the fact it is, quite clearly, my own head. It looks kind of unreal, around the eyes and the puckered edge of the severed neck, but only in the way that any severed head looks unreal. (10/06/09)

‘Fax Sonore’

Posted in Dreams on 10 June 2009 by nicholasroyle

A French film starring Tim Roth. I’m watching a trailer. Staring into Tim Roth’s eyes up close. He asks his boss, ‘Should I arrest him or follow him?’ By now I’m so close to him I’m in the trailer, on the floor with him – or he’s in such extreme close-up that it just seems like that. It’s not quite clear now whether Tim Roth is the policeman or his quarry. He looks like a bad guy. There’s a huge poster on the wall for another French film. It’s a grey poster with a small, simple logo and the title running up the side: FAX SONORE. (09/06/09)

Harvey Barrett

Posted in Dreams on 9 June 2009 by nicholasroyle

Sitting around a table talking about Chris K’s new film. I feel like I’m not really a part of the discussion. When I do get a chance to speak, I point out a kid on screen, Harvey Barrett, and say, ‘I was at school with him.’ It’s a slightly banal observation, but it’s true. I do recognise him from MGS. I go on to say that I don’t think it’s Chris’s best work. Although we’d been looking at footage on a TV screen, now I think we’re discussing a script and at stake is whether it should get made. I want to support Chris, naturally, but I know he’s done better. I start thinking of how Pilotage/The Quality of Light would make a better film.

The meeting over, I’m on my bike on a cliff road. Quite steep. Going uphill. The road then goes away from the sea and I look at the shoreline stretching away to the right as the road hugs the mountain. There’s a tunnel up ahead. I’m not sure about sharing it with traffic but then realise it’s a foot tunnel. I pass through it into a lobby area where people are waiting for one of two large lifts. One appears to be on the 28th floor, the other approaching the 29th. The latter arrives and I get in.

Next I’m sitting down next to a huge fat guy and his son who is dry-swimming on the floor of the lift. I’m in football kit. The fat guy asks why. I explain I’ve been away with the Time Out football team. He doesn’t know what Time Out is. I explain. (08/06/09)