A dream: I stumbled onto a seminar that initially thought was a trade workshop for those in the recording and audio industry. Many people were crammed into a narrow, low ceiling room with spot lighting. The centre of their attention was a large but dated audio mixing desk. There was an implication that its vintage and pedigree was such that many iconic musicians had channelled their art through this equipment.
Slowly it dawned on me that the workshop attendees were not audio types at all. They were psychics, mediums and the like.
Then it was revealed that this particular mixing desk contained the disembodied voices of now dead musicians. On different channels were the likes of David Bowie, Lou Reed, Janis Joplin, Prince etc. Push up a fader and their voice just mid conversation was heard. Often it was one half of a conversation. We couldn’t hear the other half until it was surmised that the other half of any conversation might be on one of the other faders.
Excitement in the room grew as a handful of intuitive people realised that by patching the desk in various ways they could enable groups of musicians to talk to one another.
Slowly it dawned on us all that we might be able to patch in our own voices and talk to these dead rock stars or even collaborate musically with them.
Image by Chrisjtse under this creative commons licence
My dreams feel so real / whereas ‘real life’ feels so fake / see you in dream world
Image by Hartwig HKD under this creative commons licence
Dreamt I lived in a future world where 4:3 ratio CRT TV’s were still the norm & there was but 4 TV channels. It was future bliss.
Image by under Carbon Arc under this creative commons licence
Dreamt I awoke in the body and lifestyle of a Daily Mail reader though I was the same inside. A lack of hilarity ensued.
I dreamt that Rex Harrison was singing in that talk-singing way he had. He was singing Invisible Sun as usually performed by The Police. He was placing his quizical vocal emphasis on a very literal recital of the lyrics ala ‘Why can’t a woman be more like a man’.
Wilfred Hyde White was lurking silently.
This may be a repeat dream. It feels kind of familiar. London is surrounded by a wall and largely abandoned. I’m one of a small number who regularly gain access to the abandoned city via various burrowed tunnels. We have to be quick as there’s a low level exposure danger to being in London that isn’t specified.
We emerge by Marble Arch. There is much that is boarded up but dilapidated. All sounds are deadened in a similar way to the way snow deadens the passage of sound. Shouting out does not seem to carry the voice and an eerie silence pervades.
Night seems to fall at different times to the areas outside of the quarantine which puzzles us greatly. In time we find we’re spending so long in the abandoned city that we are deemed too tainted to stay in the world outside the city by the authorities so spend our lives in a no mans land between the two, the tunnels below and the fringes of the quarantined area.
Image by J@ck! under this creative commons licence
I had two main dreams last night. The first featured a man with a mixture of cereal flakes and coins embedded in his legs at an angle. At a distance it made his legs almost look scaled. It turned out he was a kind of anti super hero complete with dubious pants and a black cape. His aim was to introduce elements of chaos into lives. He thrived on chaotic situations. He would arrive, show how to bring order then twist the circumstances by introducing more chaos.
In between all this he just chased people for fun. He was chasing me. I ran.
Image by Neal Dench under this creative commons licence