I used to write down my dreams regularly but over the years they slipped away, leaving just this one from the 9th of June 1996, 4 a.m.:

Tonight, i witnessed the severest storm of the year. Despite closed windows, the rain stole through and leaked down the wall so that i was forced to move my bed. My blanket had lost the battle against the cold, so i reinforced it with a pink sheet, a white tablecloth and a yellowed lab coat. I slipped into sleep with Radio 5 playing; the last song i recall being the Smashing Pumpkins’ ‘1979’. I later awoke from this dream:

An evil man sits upon the throne. I steal what gives him power. It’s something you sense rather than see. In rage, he storms after me and enough of the power lingers within him so that he becomes a giant. But i learn to fly and thus escape.

I fly confused, unable to unlock the power’s remaining secrets. But it’s a relief to be in the open as my head suddenly clears and i realize that the confusion had almost overpowered me into death.

I see two couples in a park. I alight and they’re not surprised by my transport. I greet them, recognizing one girl and kissing her deeply; warm, soft, moist and consequently comforting. I lie to her boyfriend that the kiss meant nothing but he is unperturbed. They inform me that half go to a gig at the Berea Inn (which lies on the border of the park), and the others seek a sick friend at St Augustine’s hospital (which is within the park). I recognize the name of the patient as an old friend of mine that i used to play pool with so i decide to go with.

We enter an enormous room and i soon lose the others. It’s a waiting room but the ceiling is disproportionate and domed by glass; huge and Turkish like the throne room where i’d stolen the power. Alistair (a buddy from St Tropez), is high above on a stone platform. He’s playing drums with knives. Somebody is to his right. His presence is indefinable but important. His speech is with white feelings and bright light instead of words. I sense the evil. The crowd appears hypnotized and reverent.

Not knowing where to go, i lie on a bed in a corner. The room grows further. Now there are thousands of people. I fall asleep.

Loren wakes me. Surprise! She hugs me hello. There’s a couple lying on the bed next to us. They’re in missionary position. Suddenly everyone in the room is coupled atop beds, knives appearing in the hands of those below. Killing knives. I realize that the refusal of my possessed hand determines the fate of everyone.

I cast it away but it returns. I see a possible future of Loren’s slit neck rushing blood onto me. That gives me the power to stop what is happening. Strangely, i’m able to put the knife down gently.

The partner of the coloured woman next to me leaves. I beckon her and we have sex on the floor whilst someone does the same with Loren. We switch partners but now it’s more gentle than wild.

Loren starts to tell me something, something important, but her words are lost as i awake-

The storm has returned me to consciousness. My eyes are closed and i know that i’m facing away from the window yet lightning still whitens my sight.