Now this was really really bizarre, and it actually shook me up quite a bit – not the first part of the dream, but the latter half of it. You’ll see why.
I was at a new BBC office in Cromer Street in York. Sanjeev Shetty was also working in this office (and moaning about it), which was very very drab – sort of like BBC Manchester, but worse. Much worse.
Matt Jones was also there too. He kept saying that he couldn’t remember why he was there, what he had done there or what he was working on.
The scene changed (as it so rapidly does in dream land) and I found myself in a fairground, which was half way up a rather large hill. The hill itself was the Great Orme in Llandudno, Wales.
Paul Sissons was being a big kid and playing on this sort of helter skelter/rollercoaster combination. He was going the wrong way round it, and was actually hanging on to the edges of it doing a sort of hand stand.
Another scene change, and I am in some middle class english cul-de-sac, trying to get into someone’s garden, because its where they filmed the lava scene in Star Wars Episode 3. There is a driveway by the side of the semi detached house, which leads directly into the garden.
The garden is filled with a swimming pool that is a massive 50 metre one. The swimming pool is in a bit of a state, with leaves all over it, and the water is a bit murky.
The woman who owns the house comes out and tells us to piss off and that we have got the wrong house. ‘Us’ being myself and the three other people I am with, and whom I don’t know, nor have I ever met.
Suddenly I am sat by the side of the swimming pool on a long bench. I am in some sort of bar, with Neil and Jo Jepson, along with Heather.
Jo and I go to the bar (which is round a big partition wall) to get some booze. I order two pints of Tetley, but apparently its not cold enough so the barman puts some ice in it.
With yet another scene change I am sat in my flat. Mi Mam is sat in the chair by the window and apparently now lives with me and Heather. The weird thing is that she is mi Mam circa 1988 – which would make her about 33.
There was a big problem though. She had invited Our Kid’s dad to stay with us. She was thinking of giving it another go.
This all felt earily familiar. Years ago, in real life, she had done this and it proved to be a whole world more trouble than it was worth.
Mi Mam seemed adamant, and actually quite up for it. I kept saying to her that it would all go tits up, and ‘look what happened last time’, but this fell on deaf ears.
The next thing I know I am in the bedroom lying on the bed. The door swings open violently, and Mi Mam limps in, tears streaming down her face, which is also sporting a black eye.
I don’t need to be told the cuprit. I get up, seething, looking for him, ‘Right he’s a dead man’.
I open the door to our flat and look down the stairs into the hallway. I see Our Kid’s dad (who also looks circa 1988) pull a painting off the wall, smash its glass case, and pick up a long dagger like shard of glass.
Not needing to see anymore of this, I shut the door and go see if Mi Mam is okay. In the background, on the landing outside our front door, I hear someone shout, ‘Put it down’. The voice sounds familiar.
Opening the door to I find Jon Tremlett, standing in the open door of his flat (which he recently moved out of, which is up a step to the left of our front door) pointing a gun at Our Kid’s dad. Jon is holding the gun in his right hand, steadying his arm with his left hand, in the classic cop movie way.
Our Kid’s dad is now holding a pair of scissors as well as a large kitchen knife. I run into the flat to find a weapon of some sort, but despite thinking about using the large cutting one metre cutting ruler I have, I can’t find anything suitable.
As I come out of the kitchen I find that Our Kid’s dad has crept into the flat. Lord knows how he managed to escape Jon from upstairs, as there isn’t a lot of space on the landing. I rush at him, knocking him off his feet and into the landing where he lands on the floor outside Jon’s front door (which is still open).
Standing over him, feeling the anger surge through me, he looks scared. I shout for Jon to come out and guard Our Kid’s dad. Then, I calmly pick up the knife and the scissors, cutting his leg with the knife.
As I cut him, I scream ‘I fucking hate your guts’, before adding coldly, ‘I would kill you if I could get away with it.’