A lot of goings on tonight.
Firstly I was looking round a flat with Luke Scheybeler. It was only the top floor of a four floor house, but there was no front door – it was just like an open house. I couldn’t get upstairs though, as there was only a narrow staircase (mahogany banister), and the way was blocked by a chair on each staircase. Each chair was preceeded by a massive bunch of flowers as well.
I eventually managed to get myself up stairs. The ginger prince (Scheybeler) was already there, expressing his dismay. It wasn’t what we were looking for. The old woman whose house it was (who looked like a real life version of Peter Parker’s Aunt from the comic not the film) was very disappointed. I could see what Scheybeler meant though – one bedroom was clearly bigger than the other (like twice the size) and there was no way I was having the smaller one.
After this I was on my way to play football for the Strollers, when I bumped into Jim and Caroline (who I used to live with) and that ginger twat Rory. They were playing football with an old 50s leather football on the newly renovated Regents Park. In fact I even said to them that I didn’t think it was finished, to which Jim replied with a sarcy, ‘No Loz, its not finished is it’.
Later, I was giving Karl Archer a croggy home on a BMX. I think it started out as Scheybeler, but changed half way through the journey to Karl. We went past the my old infant school canteen (since knocked down in real life), and down the road where Scott Green used to live. Oddly, even though I was taking Karl to his old home on Evelyn Cresent, his mam lived down the same road as Scott Green. He shouted something at her house, and then we turned up to go past the little bakery and onto the Spa on burton stone lane.
Having dropped Karl off, I went home, to find myself living in a house with a shit roof terrace. And a pig. Yes, we had a pet pig. I remember thinking to myself in the dream, where does it shit, cos there is was no pig shit anywhere.
Anyway, the pig started out really fat, but got very very thin through the course of the dream. Sean Martin (another work collegue, New Zealander) was there for some reason, advising me that the pig was now ready to eat and its thiness was in fact a sign that it had crisped up. So taking his trusty combat knife he carved a bit off the back thigh of the still alive pig. And indeed it was cooked through, and it tasted like the roast suckling pig Heather had when we went to Barcelona. The cracklin was well tasty.
There was also some black geezer that was a dj at this party fretting about his future. Don’t know who the hell he was.
And then I was in bed back in my old room at mi mam’s house. I could hear Paul and Max whispering outside the room about how they were going to wake me up by being zombies and scare the shit out of me. The door was open and when they both popped their heads round to creep in, I gave them the v’s, and they fucked off. Then paul came in and did a zombie impression anyway.