30-June-2003: Someone had given me a video tape to record a film for them; it was quite an old looking tape so I decided to see what was on it before a recorded over the top. It was some footage from about five years ago of a guy answering questions about the SETI programme and aliens in general. He had a clipboard with a list of names; he was going down the list allowing each person one question. I was about to turn it off when he read out the name, Morgan; which was the name of an ex-flatmate. I thought it unlikely that it would be the same person, but when I heard his voice it was; it was him four years before I ever met him, I was interested to see what he looked like then. He asked a really silly question about how close Star Trek is to reality, the guy replied with a well thought out and wholly humiliating response designed specifically for this type of question. When the camera panned around to Morgan had a huge balding growth on top of his head, with a few strands of hair brushed across. He must have had it surgically removed before I met him. Morgan was upset that his question was taken in such a bad light; he was doubly annoyed that the camera had focused on him and his hideous head growth. He stormed off with his bicycle, an unwieldy tandem, into a busy HMV shop; but you could still see his vein-covered growth sticking out above the crowd. The camera followed him around the shop and someone paid a guy on a BMX to cut him off so he’d have to stop, to enable them to get some really good pictures.
29-June-2003: Found myself working for an export company in the Far East; shipping cheap cars to England. A lorry loaded with the cars was coming down a mountainside when one of the vehicles came loose and fell off; as it tumbled down the hillside it caught fire and exploded in a grand fashion like in Hollywood movies. My friends and I thought this was a bit odd so we investigated the rest of the cargo. It turned out that they were not real cars at all, but empty shells; packed full of illegal fuel being shipped to England for tax-free sale. My employers were gangsters; we went to confront them at their mountaintop offices and a big fight broke out when it became clear that only one person was running the fuel racket and everyone else thought they were just selling cheap cars.
28-June-2003: I was one of three Japanese looking children; two girls and me. We were running around a town aimlessly, upset that our mum was kind of dead and that we didn’t know where our father was. The three of us looked like orphan children; a bit dirty and with little bruises on our faces, some of the townsfolk thought our daddy had been hitting us and we’d run away from home. We met a woman on a bridge who looked just like Rachel out of S-Club Seven (a children’s pop group); she said we were very cute and how sorry she was that our mother had died. She wanted to take us home and be our new mum, care for us. I tried to explain to her that she had no idea what she was taking on if she wanted to foster us. She said she had looked after children before and that she knew what she was doing. I told her that we were not ordinary children; we were uber-kids. Not quite superhuman but definitely extra-human; we would, more likely than not, outlive Rachel and still look not much older than we did now. Our mother wasn’t exactly dead; she had had some kind of accident and needed to spend one hundred years regenerating. That’s why we told everyone she was dead, because they would never see her in their lifetimes. Our father was off fighting evil somewhere in a very dark town that we grew up in; he had hypnotised us to remove the location of the town from our minds and left us here for our own safety. It sounds a bit odd to leave your children all alone in a strange town; but from his point of view, it was like leaving your children at a crèche or something. We weren’t ordinary children and it was nearly impossible for anything to harm us. Rachel didn’t believe me and thought we were all silly children making up fantasies. We climbed up on the wall of the bridge to jump off and show her that we were telling the truth; there was no river, only dust fifty metres below. We told her how we could slow our fall like humans using a parachute only more so. Rachel was screaming for us to get down; she was so distraught that we got down and said we were sorry for scaring her like that, we should have thought of a better demonstration. Miwako, one of my sisters; picked up a passing drunken man with one hand and held him over her head on the end of her arm, then threw him five metres into a pile of cardboard boxes and rubbish. The man got up and swayed his way along the street, seemingly oblivious to what had just happened. I asked Rachel if she thought a normal child would be able to do that. She asked for us to tell our story again, in full, and this time she would listen carefully and hope that she could still help us somehow.
27-June-2003: Playing a board game with Sean Suckling (School friend from quite a while ago) based in 1942. We were using telepathy to move the pieces around the map of a Japanese island. When I looked closer I could see that the game pieces were real tanks and people; real people were actually been blown up. So we stopped the game.
26-June-2003: I was in Australia with the cast of ‘Neighbours’ (an Australian soap opera) from about 15 years ago. We were going to the coast to hire a sea-plane to fly out for the day. When we got to the harbour we assured the owner of the plane that we, all six of us, were experienced pilots. When we were inside Shane started up the engine and we taxied out of the harbour and skirted around a few boats. Shane sat there fiddling with levers and dials trying to figure out how to make the plane move to take-off speed. Jane, who was sat in the back with Des, said to Shane, ‘For God’s sake, it’s pretty obvious you don’t know what you’re doing mate. Get out and let me do it.’ Shane got out saying how it had been such a long time since he’s tried flying and that he should have let Jane do it in the first place; seeing as she had just got her licence recently.
Jane got the plane up to full throttle and we took off into the air; not for long though, Jane’s ineptitude at flying soon became apparent as we slewed out of control and crashed onto a little island.
25-June-2003: I met a homeless guy living in a field in a construction he’d made himself out of cardboard boxes. My mum offered him a place to live; not with herself but with me. Before I had time to argue he’d already accepted. When we got back to my flat the whole house was in chaos; they’d heard on the radio that a nuclear missile was heading towards Fulford Barracks just down the road, expected to hit any minute. I hastily set up my EMP shield, invented from an earlier dream, to protect as many people as possible. Unfortunately the shield would only spread out far enough to protect our little terrace of houses; didn’t have time to worry about it though as the blast, with a blinding atomic flash, hit the second I activated the shield. The energy released was incredible and I doubted for a moment that my shield wouldn’t work; which was nonsense, the greater the force set against it means it has a greater effect in repelling the force. Still, the other occupants were terrified and dived under table and stairs. I just looked straight into the hurricane after the flash had gone; bits of houses and trees were flying past our building and curving around the shield, then the whole thing seemed to happen again in reverse as the vacuum created by the bomb imploded and masses of air were sucked to the centre of the blast.
Half an hour later there was nothing left but our building; we were all alive and went to look out of the windows. There were soldiers outside, puzzling over the intactness of our building. After a long chase though the house and over the roof, the soldiers caught me and took me to a bunker underneath Fulford Barracks. They insisted I share my technology with them; that the human race depended on it. The alien attackers were also puzzled at the sight of the intact building jutting out of the rubble and they were picking up signals coming from the now uncovered bunker, which had been underground. A soldier announced a flotilla of small enemy craft flying in to finish off the barracks. I shielded the bunker and all their attacks proved fruitless; two of the craft were even shot down. Still. I knew I’d made a mistake; knew they’d realise that our technology had advanced and they would have to come back for us with something more deadly than projectile weapons.
24-June-2003: Something to do with new friends and old friends all mixing together…
23-June-2003: Baghdad, Iraq. Not the Iraq of today but sometime in the future with sophisticated motorway systems, trams and buses and a decidedly Islamic feel; seen in the people, architecture and mostly in the music, which seemed to permeate everywhere and everyone. I was out in the suburbs somewhere and wanted to get back to the airport so I could go home; the airport was quite a way in the distance. There were two passenger jets flying over the airport, wheeling around each other like WWII fighter planes; I thought the pilots must be mad or drunk or something. One of the planes caught one of the other’s engines and it began to burn. The burning plane was jolted almost upside down and attempting to right itself in a lazy arc; like a huge albatross, its impact with the ground was inevitable. I was wondering how big the explosion was going to be and whether I ought to run away in case of flying debris. The explosion was enormous; minutes later bits of aircraft were falling on the motorway 500 metres in front of me and people were fleeing in my direction; I turned and ran but stopped after a short time as I noticed nothing bad was reaching as far as me. Then the thought hit me; my God, the bloody airport’s been destroyed, it’ll be ages before I can get home!
22-June-2003: Lots of dreams about storms and lightning; watching with my friend Mark out of my window, every time the lightning flashed the scenery changed to a different time period. For some reason Mark could not see the changes, to him it was a sunny day all the time; I told him that he couldn’t see it because he wasn’t dreaming.
When I woke up there was a real lightning storm outside the window; it lasted for ages and made me feel very surreal.
21-June-2003: Something about kicking lots of stuff down, doors and things, with my super-strong legs.
20-June-2003: Went to Bradford on the train with some friends and met a nice girl working in a travel agents’. When I asked her what she was doing that night she told me I could meet her for a drink at a coffee house, whose name I forget, at seven o’clock. When she met me she seemed really upset and I noticed that her wrists had bandages on with blood leaking through. I told her it wasn’t necessary to live that way and she told me I didn’t know what I was talking about. I asked her if I could try and remove all her pain; she thought I meant to fix her wrists, I said I could do that too but that wasn’t the pain I meant.
I put my hands on the side of her head and sucked out every memory of pain associated to bad things that had, or she perceived that had, happened to her in her life. Not the memories themselves, just the pain associated with them. The pain was transferred to my brain and the girl thanked me and hugged me for a long time; telling me it was the greatest gift she could possibly imagine.
The next morning I was walking along with my brother and asked him if he thought I did the right thing, adding extra painful thoughts to my own memory. The girl I’d helped was a little further down the street, skipping along like a little girl; blissfully happy with hardly a care in the world. My brother pointed her out and told me to look at her if ever I had any doubt.
Later that day another girl with black hair, the first girl’s best friend, asked me if I could do the same thing to her. She didn’t actually believe in what I had done, but saw how happy her friend was so wanted to try it. She said that she was impossible to hypnotise so it probably wouldn’t work on her. I explained that it had nothing to do with being hypnotized and that the effects would take place almost immediately whether she wanted them to or not; she and I would live through all her pain-causing memories in less than ten seconds, it would be awful for that brief time but then there would be no more pain. A few other people we both knew, the girl and I, had come to watch. I made them promise not to tell anyone else because this power of mine is a secret and I didn’t want to be overwhelmed with people wanting their pain removed. This was the first time I realized that the operation had an area of effect, as I proceeded I could see that the audience was able to hear all the sounds from the girl’s memory. There was her father shouting at her and Darth Vader, the bad guy from Star Wars, was speaking in a strange language; words that the girl was too young to understand when she watched the film, the memory of the evil man from outer space had been residing in the depths of her mind causing her hidden trauma without her knowledge. I couldn’t help wondering what effect these new images were going to have on me.
After that day more and more people were wanting me to help them; I was telling them I couldn’t handle that many thoughts been in my own head, some were offering huge amounts of money in compensation. I didn’t want their money, it was turning into exactly the sort of thing I didn’t want it to; it was in danger of becoming a commercial enterprise. It was then that I got a message from Catface that the images could be redirected to the Mothership’s spare hard-drive and not stay in my head; so I carried on helping people making them all promise not to tell any newsgroups.
19-June-2003: Had an exam in the morning and no form of alarm clock to wake me up so I kept waking up every half an hour and didn’t dream anything memorable…
18-June-2003: I was in a small car with some people I don’t know, the driver was my flatmate and he was driving very fast and banging into parked cars and lampposts; we were stopped by the police. The two police officers made us all get out of the car and put the driver into the back of the police car. Every time someone tried to talk one of the police officers hit them with a telescopic metal baton. I began to tell him to stop hitting my friends and he went to hit me with the baton; but before it connected I caught it, pulled it off him and snapped it in half and threw it away. By now everyone else, three people, was in the back of the police car. I ripped the front doors off but they still couldn’t get out; the car didn’t have any back doors. A police officer tried to stop me but I threw him away like the baton; then pealed away a side of the car almost as if it were a door and we all escaped.
17-June-2003: I was at school taking an English exam, my friend Mark was sitting next to me and wouldn’t stop talking; I had my hands over my ears so I couldn’t hear him. The teacher was shouting at me, I thought it was because we were talking but when I uncovered my ears she was trying to tell me to only do question two on the paper. When I looked at question two there was a map of Japan at the top with a little village on the outskirts of Tokyo prefecture singled out. There was a small boy there called Totemo who would never stop working and doing things; the assignment was to write a day in his life. It was very difficult for me because in my dreams I can speak every known language and thousands more that are not; because he was Japanese my brain clicked into the Japanese language and I wasn’t able to write anything in English. I had to write the whole assignment in Japanese then write a translation in English within the two hours given.
To make it worse a teacher, wearing electric-blue lycra, kept asking me questions about philosophy. She had a piece of stained glass with the name Michelangelo on it; she was asking me why I thought that a famous doctor (who’s name I forget) was so fond of the artist. I couldn’t concentrate because I couldn’t help thinking that she was pronouncing his name incorrectly; saying it like he was an English Michael with the second name Angelo, instead of how Italians pronounce it- more like mikal than maikal. She told me that the doctor was so fond of him because he always persevered and never gave up.
16-June-2003: A friend called Delphine, a French woman, whom I haven’t seen in ages came to tell me that a spaceship was approaching Earth, carrying a vital message for our survival. I introduced her to the Mothership and we all went flying off together to intercept the alien craft. There were lots of other parties trying to get to the ship first; all hoping to grab some new technology for money or power. We got there first and were given what they called a data chip, but to Delphine and I it just looked like a piece of oddly crafted wood. The other parties got there too late to see the ship but knew that I had talked with the aliens. The rest of the dream was all spies, secrets and espionage; trying to take the alien technology from us. The game was up when Catface managed to rig up a device in the Mothership to read the data on the alien piece of wood. The information on the wood described itself as the building blocks of the universe and that its underlying power was love. The main message being that without love our planet will not thrive into the future.
15-June-2003: I was a child in America playing with a bunch of other children who were all from TV shows. One of them was doing some really deadly stunts on a BMX in a back yard, saying something like he can be as mad as he wants because it’s not real so nothing can happen to him. After a bit I noticed that the scenery out of the kitchen window was astounding and we all went for a walk in the fertile countryside. We crossed a river and noticed what looked like a castle at the top of a mountain. The castle was so enticing that we had to go and see it, but it was such a long way. I was going to let slip that I could fly but it didn’t take as long as I thought to walk there in the end anyway.
When we got there it turned out that it wasn’t a castle at all but a little brick house; like some kind of way-station for tired climbers. We had a great time inside, messing about with all kinds of little nick-nacks we found in cupboards and on shelves; until an old man came in and chased us out of his house. We met a woman on our way back down the hill who gave us a good telling off for disturbing the old man.
14-June-2003: I was back at the printing shop I used to work in years ago; I’d gone crazy wrecking stuff all over the building and in neighbouring gardens. The next day I could only vaguely remember my madness, my boss told me it was okay as it only happened once a year; and my special powers more than made up for the damage I caused. He had a thousand booklets that need trimming in the guillotine on the top, bottom and edge. Booklets were always the most difficult to trim because they are fatter at the spine where they are folded and stapled so you had to only do about five at a time; it would have taken ages to do a thousand, so I used my telekinetic powers to slice all one thousand exactly the same. They were all cut nice and neat, even better than the new guillotine could have cut them. I also cut out some restaurant menus the same way, even discarding the off-cuts in one fluid movement.
13-June-2003: For some reason the mothership had landed in a small town in America somewhere; its only disguise was that it was only three metres wide and not big enough to fit people inside. I went to the sight with my brother, who’s never seen the mothership before, on BMX bicycles. When we got there the ship was surrounded by townspeople and there was a sheriff fending them off; as we approached the sheriff said, ‘hey look, the MacDonald brothers are here!’ MacDonald isn’t my real name, ‘They’ll get to the bottom of this.’
The ship’s door was too small to crawl through so I told Catface to steadily make the ship bigger until we could get inside then fly away. When the ship started growing the crowd gasped but I calmed them saying that the object was inflatable; that I’d just found a gas tank inside and a valve to inflate it. When it was large enough, my brother and I crawled in through the door on our bellies; once we were inside we could stand up in the true dimensions of the vessel. As we were on our way back to England I noticed that there were other people with motherships similar to mine, other sleeping people like myself; made me wonder if the ships are the same as guardian angels.
When we got back to York in England someone had stolen Clifford’s Tower from the top of its grassy hill and I spotted two Apache helicopter gunships, apparently secretly owned by the local police, hiding in a gap between a hotel and a war museum.
12-June-2003: A frenzied orgy with lots of my friends involved, men and women; and a few women I’ve never met before… way too naughty to write about here.
11-June-2003: York was about to be attacked by a meteor shower and hundreds of people were going to be killed. I summoned the mothership to come and evacuate as many people as possible but the silly thing came down disguised as a shopping trolley with a big black plastic bag over it. I was trying to convince people that it wasn’t really a shopping trolley and that if they climbed under the black bag there will be plenty of space for everyone.
10-June-2003: Was having a conversation with someone on the internet and we came to the conclusion that even though it was miles away in America it was just like he was a few feet away. We then realised that if we thought hard enough we could use our computers as a gateway and visit each other in person. I was trying to show a girl who goes by the name Samantha Vimes on a Terry Pratchett website how to use her computer to get to England, but she was unable to get through because of some interference caused by an electrical storm near her house.
9-June-2003: Lots and lots of puppies, too many to handle. Gave my ex-wife 10000 pounds in cheques that were accompanied by condolence letters, for our child that was terminated, that had been lost in the post for six years. She was driving a beat up old Volvo.
8-June-2003: I was an American fighter pilot ace based on an aircraft carrier in WWII. I shot down a lot of Japanese Zeros but other than that it’s all a bit hazy.
7-June-2003: I was a fighter pilot for the EDC, Earth Defence Corps, and we were being attacked by big guys in red armour on one front and aliens (same as the film ‘Aliens’) were been beaten back on another. There was only one alien left and it was about to eat a small girl but the girl was armed and she shot it in the face at close range. Some of the blood from the creature went into my flight partner’s mouth and he began to slowly change into one of the aliens. We flew of to the university to see if they could do anything for him but they could not; he said that he wanted to die in his plane and that I would have to shoot him down before he turned into one of them. I didn’t want to do it but in the end I had to admit it was the only way. He flew his plane out of the university hanger and I followed shortly after. I began to open fire on him when we were swooped upon by the red-armour-wearing intruders; forcing me to break off and defend myself. We fought off all the enemy planes and my flight partner landed in the middle of a contingent of enemy troops and just sat there waiting for them to kill him. The enemy was confused by the manoeuvre, thinking it was a trap. I could see inside his cockpit where his head was beginning to take on the shape of the alien, so I opened fire and destroyed his plane with him inside it. The enemy troops were doubly confused by me attacking my own friend and weren’t sure what to do; I opened fire on them too and killed them all until the enemy generals gave up.
Later, back at the university; the enemy generals came to shake hands and pat me on the back for my excellent tactics in defeating them, sacrificing my own best friend to win. They said I would be worthy of any military rank on their planet, and they disgusted me. Somehow the scientists at the university had managed to extract the spirit of my flight partner and installed him into a gambling machine in the mess hall. One of my real life friends, Che, was ever after trying to convince the machine to let him win the jackpot for old time’s sake.
6-June-2003: I found myself back with an ex living in a flat in a different town. I was panicking like crazy trying to figure out how I’d landed myself in such an awkward position. She started crying because she thought I hated her so I had to tell her it will be okay and that we are all right. Then I realised I didn’t have any money and that my job was back in York, four hundred miles away, aaaah. I woke up very relieved at my surroundings.
5-June-2003: Went to southern Spain to work in a children’s home. When I got there the place was empty, all the kids had gone camping. There was a really beautiful girl in the town that looked quite sad; I tried to talk to her but she told me to go away. I didn’t give up and kept trying to start a conversation with her but this guy that I used to know when I was at school was butting in all the time, whispering obscenities and rude suggestions in her ear; telling her all the rude things that he’d like to do to her. She said this is why she is unhappy; because everyone is always treating her like that. I said that I could just talk to her, that it doesn’t matter how beautiful she is; she’s still an important person like everyone else. Still I couldn’t get through with this guy continuing his tirade of dirty talk in her ear, so I made a signal and had one of my men take him away. When he was being dragged away I turned to talk to the girl again but she was off walking down a hill. I picked up a pink blanket from the ground and used it as a sail to hang glide down the hill after her; I was distracted though by a group of teenagers hanging around outside the children’s centre and had to go and see what was up. They wanted to start a fight with one of our kids that, apparently, hadn’t gone camping with the rest. They got inside the house and started wrecking the place; I tried to reason with them; pleading for the sake of the poor children that live there. They wouldn’t listen so I had to call the policia and have them all arrested. Never did see the girl again, I had to fly back to England.
4-June-2003: I went with some friends to Ziggy’s nightclub. Halfway through the night I decided to go up to the deejay and tell him I had an announcement to make. When I got on the mic and had everyone’s attention I said, ‘ I have some extremely important news; I have invented a device that will change the course of warfare.’ I reached down and touched a button under my right shoe; a blue cylindrical force-field rose up and surrounded me. ‘This is an EMP, electro magnetic pulse, shield. It repels all projectile objects; in effect, rendering all projectile weapons obsolete.’ As if to prove it, someone threw a beer bottle at me and it ricocheted off the shield and smashed on the wall. I explained how the greater the force set against it, the more effective it was; so that a bullet from a gun would be repelled with greater force than someone throwing a bottle at me. On this particular night the club was full of hippies and students, the news to them was fantastic; they celebrated a future without guns. Later a small group found me crying in a corner, they wanted to know what could possibly be wrong. I had to tell them I had, inadvertently, invented the weapon that could penetrate the shield and that it was far more destructive than a bullet. I had it on my little finger; it was a gold ring with a crystal set in it, and the tiny watch battery that lay inside was all that was needed to power the weapon. There was a piece of armour-plating from a tank decorating the nightclub wall; I demonstrated how I could make a beam of energy shoot forth from the ring with a mere thought, slicing the four-inch-thick armour in two with an easy wave of my hand. The metal crashed to the floor, it had the cleanest cut anyone had ever seen; shining where the molecules had been intricately separated by the energy beam.
3-June-2003: I was in Italy, in a huge coffee house. A party of us were sitting around a long table and a Japanese girl opposite me was eating a deluxe trifle. I was smiling at here because another girl next to her kept asking for her taste of her trifle and taking a spoonful. She could have had her own trifle if she wanted one, they were free. There was a Korean girl a few places down on my side of the table that looked really familiar, even though I’d never seen her before. The dinner was over and we were all standing around in groups; someone made a joke about my friend Sean being a bit low on brain cells and I pretended to snigger, knowing he was behind me. He grabbed me in a wrestling hold, telling everyone he promised he would do this to me if I ever laughed at him again. He was going to punch me in the head so I did a little kung fu move that bent his wrist backwards and he yelped; I did it just enough to stop him hitting me but not enough for me to break free, I wanted him to think he was winning because he never wins at anything.
When the little wrestling match was over, the Korean girl came up to me and said she was rooting for me. She asked me why I didn’t punch the guy after I’d made him yelp and his ribs were wide open to attack. I explained that he is my friend and that I don’t go around punching people I like. After that we, the Korean girl and I, couldn’t bear to be apart; just being with her felt fantastic, we went to London and everywhere together for the rest of the dream.
2-June-2003: Went to the pub with my brother and ordered two pints of stout; the barrel was empty so the landlady asked if we wanted something else or if we could wait a few minutes. As we were waiting I saw a strange stained-glass door I’d never seen before and went through it. It led into a Tudor house which, in turn, led to a medieval church on springs. Inside it was full of people and every time someone new came in the whole church lurched around on the springs. Instead of a choir, each member of the congregation was expected to take a turn at singing their favourite song. Just before me a family of native American’s were singing an Apache lullaby, eventually everyone picked up the tune and started humming along. When it got to my turn I sang, very loudly, an ancient Russian song. I couldn’t remember all the words so I just kept going back to the beginning and singing it through again a little faster. Everyone thought it was meant to be like that and started dancing. I used telepathy to enhance the atmosphere and induce a bevy of girls to sing some higher notes and sound like angels. I finished of with some Mongolian throat singing.
1-June-2003: somewhere in the future I was walking along with some people I don’t know yet at night, looking at the sky. There was a big orange disc in the sky and a child said, ‘look there’s Jupiter.’ I told her that it was the moon, that you can see the craters; there aren’t any craters on Jupiter. A general from the army came to see me; he wanted me to help him uncover a plot to kill gay men in the army. One of the suspected future victims was showing me his room and I was inspecting any possible dangers, when the place began to shake like there was a small earthquake. Suddenly the floor where the man was standing disappeared and he fell through. There were holes directly beneath the first on seventeen consecutive floors; the poor man splattered all the way down to the basement, dead. We recruited Death herself personified to help us with the investigation. I said I was pleased to meet her, even though I only expected to meet her after I was dead; then it dawned on me that I might actually be dead. She assured me that I was fine, that I was going to live till at least two thousand and five. I said, ‘What? I’ve only got two years to live? She replied, ‘No, silly, I said you’ll live until you’re at least eighty five.’