Last Night's Dream (original) (raw)

I was walking (home I think). The town was Sheffield but much more intricately woven. Many short flights of steps and twisty narrow alleyways, arches etc, a little like Whitby.

As I walked I started to catch up with a bunch of people, all drunk and heading someplace; maybe it was a party. As the way forward was narrow I ended up swept along in their party. I seemed to know them all, although not that well, I had definitely seen them around. They were of the club kid/party scene ilk, the kind I know a lot of in Sheffield, but not closely.

Due to their sidewaysness they must have assumed I was at whatever gig/bar they were coming from, as they didn't notice I had joined the group, and just stumbled onwards.

We came out into a wider road, and by the side of the road on a grass verge sat a boy in his late teens with a look of resigned desperation, his long hair draped over his eyes, he was wearing a tatty waistcoat, black felt trousers, and a ripped white T-shirt. I think I was wondering whether to talk to him. A few people in my party accused him of being an EMO, and shouted (good-natured) jibes. I was swept away by the jostling and stumbling.

Next we were in a house. It was a party in a cramped terrace Sheffield house. People were sitting in corners, on sofas, on each other, leaned up against walls. In my effort to navigate I caused various spillages, beer, sweet chilli sauce etc (the latter ending up on the carpet). There was a hippyish middle aged lady who I kept apologising to, and she kept telling me it was fine and not to worry, and proceeded to clean up after me. She seemed like a mother, a mother who was off her head too.
This happens quite often at parties round here.

Change of scene, and I seem to be entering the ground floor of a block of flats/apartments. It's quite utilitarian. I need to go up the stairwell in the corner to get to where I live. I feel very depressed and alone. It becomes apparent that the downstairs of the building also includes function rooms of some kind, a cloakroom and bar. It's a club basically.

I give the stairs a miss and wander about. EP is there and he mentions something about there being a goth club night going on. I get the impression there was something we were supposed to do to contribute to this, but it's too late. I feel frustrated at leaving it too late.

There is a desk at the entrance to what I perceive to be the main room. Manning it is Sheffield DJ Gandhi Warhol, who seems a little stressed. I can't get in as I have no money and I feel an utter arse for missing a club night in my own basement.

I wander off somewhere and I am in a kind of beer garden. It's full of furries. At this point in the dream the physical appearance of everyone seems to relate to how old they seem through their behaviour e.g. their level of youthful curiosity and open-mindedness. Some people look exactly as they did years ago, others seem much older than they ought too.

I have a brief conversation with H, and ask him why he hasn't been in touch. He says he's off to make music in London, but he needs to go someplace 'grownup', he won't be going to any furmeets after this he says. I feel I should say something, but feel the wheel has turned again, and there is no point now.

There is someone jabbering at me, I think it is C from years ago. I keep trying to break off the conversation as he is obviously vastly high, and my mood is utterly at odds to this. Reaching my head around I keep seeing V-sqrl on an adjacent table, he is trying to make eye contact, but he also has an over-enthusiastic neighbour.

Eventually he extracts himself, and comes over to me. We hug and kiss. It is odd to feel the shape of his body. He is quite slinky, much less built than I imagine he must be now. I feel glad he elected to come over and sit next to me.

We are soon joined by the girl he was sitting next to. She is a bat, very slim, and pale and tiny, with huge eyes, and sharpened long black fingernails. Although not wearing a fursuit or even a costume as such, she has black silk webbing between her fingers, and perhaps silky 'wings' stretched between her hands and torso.

She is acting in character and most definitely a bat. It doesn't come off as mentally ill or forced. She just *is* a bat. People used to be this way more once, it doesn't seem to happen much these days. It is difficult to talk to her as she is a bat, and bats don't talk like us, she is pleasantly odd though, and perches on my lap.

Re the previous girl, a voice told me she was the 'youngest slut in London'. This refers to the goth mailing list BTW (does this still exist?). The voice may have been Sk the angry elf boy, who isn't in this dream as such. However when we are both pleasantly stoned and in a good mood and wandering about, we finish each other's sentences with such fluidity, and get so little in each other's way, and trade small observations it's more like being able to switch to an alternate camera angle. So he could have been with me in all of this by default,

Everybody is anticipating the arrival of someone eagerly. They arrive, or rather they were here already, looking like Genesis P. Orridge, a crazy half-tranny in a corner who I was perhaps going to talk to later only to find out they were 'Martha Stewart Vole' or some such thing. They lift up their hair and, ah yes of course it's O. As is normal O has people just kind of draped on him, and looks playful and a little smug. (Is it O though, or is it BO, or an amalgam of the two, BO seems the most likely in a P.Orridge direction, though when he talks it's definitely O).

I feel bad at not keeping in touch and not even knowing O would be here. I feel catastrophically under-informed. Should I really expect people to let me know what is going on? I think, or should I just stop avoiding the fact that my role is some kind of social nexus, and I am supposed to be on top of all this and directing it behind the scenes with subtle discordian prods and barks? I think, or at least that is the best way I can describe the feeling.

The scene shifts back to the main club area in the ground floor of the apartment building. It is full of goth types. It seems I don't need to go in the main room as they are everywhere. There are lots of people from the days of Dissolution (Sheffield goth club, now sadly long gone), Slimelight, and WGW all are amazingly dressed, and all upbeat and glad to see me, and genuinely interested in what I've been doing. I sense that Sk has gone off someplace (I guess he was there with me after all). This often happens when there are people I'd like to introduce him to. He's most likely drunk and complementing someone on their great boots cos they bought him a drink.

Suddenly, on a black leather sofa is AK, right in front of me. I haven't seen him since I last came back from Finland, and met briefly in a pub. He has emigrated, but he's here now in the flesh. We are both absurdly glad to see each other. 'I have a club in my building and your here in it!' I exclaim. All pride is abandoned and I hug him tight and kiss him on the cheek.

I really didn't expect to be this elated to see him again. We have much to talk about but I wake up here, which kinda sucks as I imagine I shan't see him this summer now *:/

It pretty much ends there. If you are in the dream you can easily work out who you are, or maybe spot folk you know. None of it is a shrouded comment about anyone, it's a dream. Kat go bed again...