Archive for the Dreams Category

Beth in the Wasteland

Posted in Dreams on September 17, 2009 by Tom Fletcher

I have dreams in which I, or somebody else, is watching a film or playing a videogame. There is never any sense of a screen though, or any kind of division between the fiction and the viewer/player.

I had a dream that Beth was playing a game and I was watching. She was alone – completely alone – on the outskirts of a wasteland. She was lost. And then she was no longer playing a game; Beth herself was lost, and alone, amidst some brown and blasted landscape with no edges. I was still an observer only; I could not communicate with her. She had no weapons but we both knew that the place was habitat to vicious creatures and wild, sadistic people. Beth was afraid. I was afraid for her.

She starts moving forwards, and this action prompts a message to appear in the air. It is a warning. It warns her that out here, in this particularly remote vicinity, there are legends of some strange and massive entity that preys on wanderers who are lost and alone. It doesn’t quite kill them. Nobody knows what it does. The entity is known only as ‘The Home’.

I didn’t want this. I am terrified for my wife.


New Job

Posted in Dreams on March 13, 2009 by Tom Fletcher

A few days ago I dreamt I was one of those people who goes to murder scenes and works out, using science, the time of death. It was my first day at work and I had no experience. (I had lied in my application.) I had had no training. The dead man lay on a table in a pub. He had been killed there and a perfect rectangle had been cut out of his torso. His heart and something white from out of him were on the seat under a tablecloth. That was how the killer had left him. He was going hard and dry, like meat left out.

I didn’t know where to start.

Me and my colleagues decided not to worry about it, and we sat around the body and the table and got increasingly drunk. We were alone because the pub was a crime scene.

Then we went home.

A Friend From A Long Time Ago

Posted in Dreams on January 21, 2009 by Tom Fletcher

There was a girl at primary school who I haven’t spoken to properly since 1995, probably. I used to see her now and again, either in some corridor at secondary school or, later, across some crowded pub in the village. Maybe once or twice between 1995 and 2005 we said hello to each other. She would seem sad.

I haven’t seen her or thought about her in years.

But last night I dreamt that I met her out on some mountain path. She was healthy and happy and laughing, walking across the fells in bad weather, at night.

The Golden-Eyed Man

Posted in Dreams on January 19, 2009 by Tom Fletcher

I had a dream that a tall, broken-limbed man with lots of pointed teeth and large golden eyes was holding me captive, strapped down, injecting me with anaesthetic. He would veer from manic pleasantry to abject fury, laughing and screaming. I didn’t know what he wanted me for but it was as if he was trying to turn me into some sort of servant – he had lots of silent, obedient servants. I got the sense that he was operating on me while I was asleep or anaesthetised, sometimes removing internal organs, and sometimes inserting devices of his own invention.

At one point I somehow escaped with one of the other servants. We saw that we were on the outskirts of a town. As we struck inwards, heading for the centre, all of the electricity went off, apart from on a stage where an old friend was playing a huge stringed instrument that looked like a giant crossbow.

The golden-eyed man caught us during the blackout, despite all of his limbs being broken and unreliable and jerky in their functioning. He tied me up. He was angrier than ever, completely unhinged, howling and running and slavering. Back at his house, he started assembling a white leather Samurai suit around himself. I was sweaty and trembling. I remembered the advice given to Jacob Singer in Jacob’s Ladder.

Stop struggling to hold on to life and these demons will start to seem like angels trying to free you from this earth.

Then I woke up.

North Shore

Posted in Dreams on January 18, 2009 by Tom Fletcher

We were at Whitehaven train station and it was night; the last train north had long gone. We decided to walk along the beach between Whitehaven and Parton, which was longer than in real life. The shore was being used by some huge corporation for storage, and was covered in boxes and cylinders and crates and all sorts of packages. They were regularly laid out, in grids and rows. It was impossible to tell what all of these things were in the dark.

The tide was coming in, and the objects were half-submerged. We picked our way between them, aware of the approaching water.

“I wouldn’t have used the beach for storage,” I said. “Not after that huge storm the other night.”

At that moment, a house-sized cube wrapped in brown plastic was lifted free of the rocks by the sea.

It started drifting.