19 - 20 Jan 2016 – I'm busking in the street in Zaragoza (C/Cinco de Marzo, where I normally am) and a copper says I can't play. He takes me to a bench where he's already speaking ot another lad. He's very tall and his face is wrapped up in a scarf that looks like gauze so I can't see his face.



4th – 5th May 2014.
I'm in a bare room with a man and a woman. The man is in charge. We are all expected to kill an oriental man who we are expecting, then ourselves. As time ticks slowly on, I try to look for a way of getting out of it. As the moment approaches, the woman shouts 'I can't do it' and I immediately say that I can't either. Needless to say, this is not allowed and the 'leader' will kill us anyway if we don't go through with it.
An anxious dream but not as frightening as it sounds.


7th – 8th May
I'm on a train travelling to do a gig with my violin in the luggage compartment. I'm with friends having a laugh and forget to take it with me when I get off at the station (Crewe, Sheffield?). I realize this so decide to go to the police desk to ask them to phone through but there are people taking an awful long time over something. I wonder if I've got time to go back and get another one, or do the show without it, and realize both alternatives are impossible and it's ESSENTIAL that I have my violin.
In contrast to the above dream, much more unsettling than it sounds.


14th – 15th May
I go to a wedding on a bus somewhere in the NW (near Oldhan?) I go on a bus which takes about 45 mins over familiar half-urban scenery. John and Janette are there. After the wedding, which I remember nothing of, we're in the front room of a house with some folk who are between 20 and 50 years old. It turns out the man can sell me some dope so we make some kind of a confused deal. He has some massive slabs of what I think is hash, but turns out to be something soft and fudge-like to put between two slices of bread and eat. I'm not sure if I should eat all of it or not. It's a suburban house with net curtains, which are open. I wonder if the neighbours can see us. I hand over two tenners and make myself a sandwich. I say 'Well, that's another wedding I've been to where I don't even know who got married', which everyone finds hilarious.
Then we're standing just outside the house chatting and the dream ends there.


18th – 19th May – 3rd week with no dope – you can see how this works, can't you?
I'm sitting on a bench next to a young woman. We both have out arms leaning over the back of the bench, next to each other. She says she thinks she may be lesbian and do I minf? She's been rejected by some bloke she thinks is 'super-guapo' (the dream is all in Spanish). I say to her 'Even he's not as guapo as the shadow of the houses on the hills in the sunshine' (which is behind us) 'Or that forest on the hillside' which is over to our left.
She moves her forearm over so it's touching mine.


30th – 31st May
I have to do an open air gig somewhere. There seem to be about 300 people on seats and everything's made of wood. I go on a bike ride to kill the time till I'm on and forget I've got a gig. I'm out in the country and suddenly I remember and hurry back, thankfully I'm in time as the first act has gone on longer, but I still have to put my lenses in. Diego Peña, who is there having acted earlier, helps me put them in, but they're an odd shape, elongated and like a drainpipe cut in half.




13 – 14 May, 2013 - Zaragoza Tramline

They decide to put a tramline in my street (C/Boggiero) but it's too narrow for platforms, so people will have to go straight on from heir hallways. And there seems to be a rule that you have to wear a hat.


16th – 17th August - Marina on stage

I'm at a theatre with Marina. The performer on stage asks for people to come up onto the stage at the end of his act. Marina goes up and starts to balance at the very front of the stage. The performer is worries but I say "Don't worry – I'm here to catch her" and I walk in front of the stage wherever Marina goes, keeping alongside of her. As usual, when dreaming of my Marina, I wake up sad that it was only a dream and she's not here in real life.


19th - 20th August - Back to the Future

Going backwards (in time?) up a river, I arrive at Chelsea FC's new stadium at Battersea Power Station (not to be, in real life). It looks like the fairground in the Residents' film 'Bad Day on the Midway'




21-22 February – Panic Stations

I turn up for work at Jorge SL. Dai's there in a suit for some reason. I remember I have to be a witness at some important meeting and translate or something. I go to the bar for a tea, forget all about the meeting and get on the bus home. Then, in a panic, I remember this important stuff I have to do. Better get back asap so I decide to get my bike. But where have I left it? Tied to a tree at the entrance to Turton Golf Club is where. I dash up a wooded road to look for it. I can't find it so go into the bar. Gorgeous (smoking) Ana is in there, but has changed her hairstyle to one I don't like so much (cf Merche in real life!). I explain my desperate situation to her and how I can't operate my phone but she won't help. As she leaves, I say 'come and see me some time' and she says 'I don't think so'. I'm still desperately trying to phone Sergio. I can't find my way through the apps and get lost in them. Out of nowhere (some sort of path) José Ignacio turns up. I explain everything as we walk down towards Turton Golf Club. Someone else is there. Confusion. I realize there's some sort of a trap, or a frame-up.  Everyone accuses everyone of something. There is a huge argument, during which José Ignacio takes out a breafd-knife and stabs me in the abdomen. I lie dying on the gritty forest path. WTF??? I wake up at about 7.15 a.m.


26-27 Feb – Zombie dream


At the end of a film about zombies as the lights go up in the cinema the audience realize they are surrounded by 'real zombies' in the seats with them. I think this is a great promotional piece (though I'm scared witless by it) and end up trying to choreograph some kind of dance for the Club Desastre. Somewhere in the middle Sol (Sol!? who I can't stand) turns up with some bags of nice fresh grass for us all. Wtf again.


28-29 Feb – Back to the 'old barrio'


I go to meet Olga and Sancho in their house in my 'old barrio' (which is the one I'm living in now, San Pablo) and go in an Arab bar to kill some time, as there's no one home. All the houses look dilapidated with cracks in the walls. I tell the Arab barman this is "where I used to live" and also the faux pas by a contestant on a British quiz show ('What is the most dangerous race in the world'?). They don't get it and I have to backpedal furiously. I try to ring Olga to see what's going on and all kinds of stuff appears on my mobile (see last dream!) including some game with octopuses, then it all goes into Arabic. I manage to get out of the bar alive but my mobile is completely fucked.


2 – 3rd March 2012 Taking Grass back to Zaragoza


I take some of Julio's grass back to Z to share with Diego. I arrive on the train at an open plan bus station in the middle of which the Club Desastre lot are busy building us a white cube to rehearse in. Nico's rolling white paint on the walls. I ask to see Diego. He's become a bus driver and is on the top deck (where his steering wheel is!) skinning up. I say 'Take me to Rochdale' and we go for a ride. There's only one passenger and he goes 'whoah' as the bus sways round corners and nearly topples over. All the while there is bright sunshine. We stop for Diego to skin another one up on his top seat but I have to get off and unlock my bike. I find it, unlock it, forget what I'm doing and lock it again. Then I can't remember whether I was supposed to lock or unlock it. The dream ends in this kind of balanced chaos.


18th – 19th April – About to be Tortured


I'm sitting in a room in a suburban house calmly discussing with people the fact that I'm about to take part in some ceremony (witchcraft?) as a torture victim. I remain outwardly calm while desperately running through ways of possibly escaping. I can remember the thought processes as I weighed up the various options (escape through the toilet window... make a dash for it through the front door... try not to betray any signs of inward turmoil... play along with the torturers... keep calm and carry on)


A horrible dream, possibly brought on by lack of dope, excess of alcohol (during Chelsea v Barcelona), thinking of ways of juggling my debts, and the news item about Ali Al Quatada's possible extradition.


First week of September (in Oxford)

Primera semana de septiembre (en Oxford) 

I'm a soldier on manouvres. We need to name the positions and the sergeant accepts my idea of - instead of naming them from A - H - to use A flat, A, B flat, B, C, D, E flat, E and F. I had a soldier's beret on.

Soy un soldado haciendo maniobras. Necesitamos nombrar a los puestos y el sargento acepta mi idea de en vez de decir A – H, usemos A bemol, A, B bemol, B, C, D, E bemol, E. Llevaba una gorra de soldado puesto.


23 – 24 September, 2012 - After a Club Desastre that Sandra came to see.


I go to visit Sandra to see Diego's show in the theatre. In her house I meet her mum (who is Ricki's mum) and leave a rucksack there having taken loads of clothes and stuff out.

We sit in the 3rd row of the Teatro del Mercado and the show starts. There are LOADS of kids on stage singing and marching (like in 'Oliver' in Kennington) and then people from around us get up and go on stage. Sandra leans over and kisses me gently on the lips, then a woman in front of me takes my hand but this turns out to be part of the show. Sandra starts talking at me but I can't hear (it reminds me of Marga's 'lists of instructions') then more kids get up from around us and I am left alone. Even S has disappeared. 

Later I'm back at her house, I have to get to the airport and am conscious of being very late. I try to put all the stuff back in my rucksack then leave with S and her mum and a bloke. We're going the wrong way for my bus stop but it seems we're going to the guy's car so he can give me a lift. But we stop off in a large house full of people that looks like a youth club. Eventually I make my own way home. 

The next thing I know I'm wheeling my bike to my door in Boggiero and Ahmed comes up saying I can't leave my bike there (the road is full of roadworks barriers!). I say I'm taking the bike into my house and he starts to threaten me with a knife.


3rd – 4th October, 2012 - My third dream about getting a puncture this week.


I see I haven't written the first 2 down, but the leitmotif was definitely a flat tyre on my bicycle. In this one, I'm doing a trip at a party, rather like in the Farmoor days, there's a bonfire (I think) lots of people – the only ones I can remember are Cluck and Dave Urmston – but it's near the Reebok stadium in Bolton. A nice view all the way down, but very industrial. By daybreak I'm about to go home on my bike down the hill along a dirt track (like the one up to Rivington Pike) but this time I see that I have 2 flat tyres. I see petite blonde Ania leaving the party by the same route so use my punctures as an excuse to walk slowly along with her.


8th – 9th October – ANOTHER anxiety dream? Well, we are in crisis and everyone's teetering on the brink...

I have to go to Mallorca so go to the airport but Chris Blunkell rings me and says he wants me to go round and look over a script (probably P & B). For some reason I reckon I can get out of the airport (I already seem to be IN Majorca, however), go to CB's and get back in time for the plane. As I'm reading through I realize I'm massively late for the plane, so try to find my things and dash to the airport. I can't find my trainers and try some on that are to hand, but they are way to small. I also seem to have lost my briefcase, or whatever I was carrying.

 I dash pell-mell to the airport but have obviously missed the flight.

 Almost 4 weeks now with no THC and this is what happens. I also had to wake up at 8.30 (3 hours before my normal time) to do an important rehearsal. This is, however, my 4th 'anxiety dream' in just over 2 weeks.


10th – 11th October – And another one!

I'm doing a gig on a scrubby old wooden stage but in a quite big venue (it looks like the Colegio Mayor Pedro Cerbuna) but there's a lot of confusion. Mic cables all over the place, people walking and running around rather than sitting in their seats... I'm announced with a big fanfare and go on stage, but there's a pianist on my right who just keeps playing as I start the gig ('noodling' in jazz terms) and I find it hard to concentrate. Then it happens! Every performers nightmare (or anxiety dream) – I forget everything I'm supposed to say and 'me quedo en blanco'. I go off stage using the confusion as an excuse – quite legitimately – though I know that I should have remembered my lines and kept going anyway.


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