Archive for August, 2009

The scoter

Posted in Dreams on 27 August 2009 by nicholasroyle

There’s a man whose job it is to bring the birds. Bring them where? Some place in Europe. He brings a tiny scoter duck and some bigger geese.

We’re in a series of shelters – like abandoned military buildings. Kate and I go in one and let the children stay in another, so that we might have some privacy. Some men come in. One of them has translated something for me. It’s a bit more flowery and declamatory than it might have been had I translated it, but it’s good that he’s done it.

Watching Mike S go into one of these buildings to get something for me. He’s running and at the same time giving the thumbs-up to a fire engine crew who might otherwise have thought he was running to put out a fire. (26.08.09)


Lumb Bank

Posted in Dreams on 27 August 2009 by nicholasroyle

I am walking through a house we have bought. It’s fine, but not especially exciting until we get to the top where we go out into the garden and look one way to a view of rooftops and the other to a fabulous vista of wooded hillsides and valleys, like Lumb Bank. (23.08.09)

Malet Street

Posted in Dreams on 27 August 2009 by nicholasroyle

On Malet Street. Lots of children on the pavement at the far end on the right. A huge hedge-cutting vehicle drives down the road too fast, leaving inadequate clearance between itself and the children. I shout at the driver. Then I cross the road and try to climb a tree. I get on to a double mattress, on its end. (20.08.09)

The End of the World II

Posted in Dreams on 27 August 2009 by nicholasroyle

Looking at the sun and watching the appearance of certain shapes against the disc of the sun. Like ink blots on blotting paper. They are evidence of weapons being tested on the other side of the world and although we are being assured it is safe, it becomes increasingly likely that we are witnessing the end of the world.

Later. In a back garden with a video camera that has run out of battery charge, yet somehow watching footage. At the same time, in the next garden, Clare P and a couple of friends are cavorting naked. (19.08.09)

San Agostino

Posted in Dreams on 27 August 2009 by nicholasroyle

A line of people wearing green to highlight the lack of green facilities at San Agostino. They’re standing between the beach bar and the main bar. I go to slip on something green and join them.

Later. In a house with lots of rooms. In the top room, which has a lot of old furniture in it, very ornate and old fashioned, there is also a fully grown black panther. I’m a little frightened of it, but I find it’s like a bigger version of Max. Like Max, though, it bites – and proportionate to its size – so I remain very wary. Other people thing there’s nothing to be scared of. (17.08.09)

Bronze stretch limo

Posted in Dreams on 27 August 2009 by nicholasroyle

Joel needed looking after and I wanted to look after him, but a woman in some kind of position of authority wanted to stop me. When I went to see her she started touching me inappropriately – not sexually, but still inappropriately. Her moves were intended to demonstrate her power over me. They meant, somehow, that I had to do what she said. But I disobeyed her. I did look after Joel – or at least I tried to. It was hard doing so because the house had been rearranged. Stairs that were supposed to lead to certain places didn’t. I recognised a handrail.

Later. Crossing a busy road in London. With some children, including two Pakistani girls. We cross the road and on the other side is parked a bronze stretch limo, a Bentley. The reg is C100. Some people are sitting inside. (16.08.09)

Raymond Carver characters

Posted in Dreams on 27 August 2009 by nicholasroyle

I am in a large open-plan office. Maybe it’s the Manchester International Festival office, but it’s not specified. I see Mandy Martinez – she looks different. Lighter-coloured hair, thinner face, features subtly altered, but still Mandy. I see Christine, her hair shorter, blonder, caught up in a clasp that allows a fan to escape at the back.

Later, Chris Kenworthy and I are emailing each other. I see a full-size image of him sitting at his desk. Behind him the wall is covered with glass display cases. I don’t know what’s in them. Can also see high a ceiling, like in a barn, with wooden beams. He can see me – and I see the same image of myself, too – lots of framed pictured on the wall behind me.

In a series of unknown rooms with people I don’t recognise. In the background a group of people who look like characters from Raymond Carver stories. Action in the foreground. A woman moving. An arm coming down in a chopping motion. I realise the background image is just that – a backdrop. Then I realise the whole thing is a series of tableaux from a film. The action becomes quite violent. Doors torn off their hinges and dropped or thrown around. (15.08.09)