So I'm back at the IMC (Infrastructure Management Centre, IBM). This is a frequently recurring dream/nightmare. Ive been called back to fix some local networking issues (again). Problems with Frontline machines not being able to connect. Once again the issue is down to cables failing due to 'Entropy' (Ive been watching far too many Quantum Mechanic videos on YouTube). This time Fizz from Coronation Street is in charge, she is cold, grey toned skin with small black dead eyes.......the hallmark of an IBM manager. This is later confirmed as she rises from her sitting position and I notice her cloven hoofed feet........ From this point onwards its downhill, cables just crumble in my hands, down to the wire which then electrocute me. The pain pulses through my left arm, a faint recollection that I've felt this before... it continues into my shoulder.... FUCK, this is a dream isn't it?! ..... That's not an electric shock, that's my 'Frozen Shoulder' acting up... guess I'd better wake up, wince a few times ten drag my fat carcass into another pointless day.

A loss..

Nothing for months then BANG.... woke up in floods of tears, the real deep ones that wash over you like a tsunami, so quick as to overtake the emotion so your first thought is "what the hell??". Then it hit me, overwhelming despair and loss. The kind that tastes of iron and snot... I'm still reeling from it an hour on. The focus of this feeling is the loss of a cat, not one I know from real life, but from a dream. A black cat, lost to a flood, I couldn't find him, the hurt and blind panic so real that just writing this has me uncontrollably weeping.

Fuck this. I no longer know if this is down to Mirtazapine or . . . .'just me'.

I spend the next 10 minutes after waking huggling 'Elsie' who was curled up fast asleep on her bed. Her 'WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!!' attitude helped more than I can say. Thank you Elsie, for being you and bringing me back.

Elsie: touch me....... and I'll kill you...

My evil plan to rule the world (...of best selling romantic novels)

I'm Evil. So evil that I've been impregnating random women who then give birth to swarms of bees that have the ability to write number 1 best selling Mills & Boon romantic novels.
Because of the fame that ensues I'm in constant demand to impregnate more and more unsuspecting women, who then give birth to more swarms of literary bumblers.
I become a multi-millionaire but get denounced as a bad father who not only cant name all his children but confesses that "they all look the same to me". It rapidly goes down hill from there.

One of my many many insectoid offspring

Drumming and the vow of secrecy

I'm the drummer for 'The Wonder Stuff' again..... Its 'after gig' time and I'm putting my gear away and there's a few interested kids on-looking. I end up being interviewed from under a table by several 8 year olds. One particular 8 year old with a heavy 5 o'clock shadow carrying a Sony DC-T5 professional cassette recorder jams a mic into my facehole. I then go onto explain the drumming industries secret 'secret of secrets' that must never be told..... 'You just hit those round things with these stick things'...

The planet falls silent... even tho' nothing has been broadcast, the entire planet now knows the 'art' of drumming is a fallacy and the only skill required is the ability to hit round things with stick-like-things..... and it was me who broke the drummers vow of silence. My twitter feed explodes in a shower of hatred, hostility and adverts for sheds.

Artists impression of the Sony TC-D5 (without mic) which was rammed into my facehole.

ANNUAL FISH COUNT postponed

All of this at the time feels real... the kinda real that's indistinguishable from, errrm, reality no matter how it sounds.
OK, so I'm working for some company, feels like IBM but I don't get the feeling its 'computer related'. I'm at home but nothing I recognise (I've no idea how that works), and there's something about the 'Annual Fish Count' on TV/Radio that seems unfeasibly important/real to everyday life.

Anyhow, its so important that I need to be in at work early to 'get things ready' (no idea why, which is a common thread in these dreams). I'm walking to work which is interspaced with getting a bus,  I get there and put my laptop on the desk plug everything in and wander around the office to see who is in.
Get back to my desk and discover my laptop is missing..
... blind panic, feeling that its my fault and its the last mistake I'm ever gonna make. Then comes the fear of telling work I've lost their laptop, its so real that I feel my sinuses clear.
Work are annoyed big time, they say unless I find it then they would have to let me go. I Call Liz to see if she can call the bus company to see if its been found (I never find out).
The 'Annual Fish Count' is suspended nation wide because of me. World now hates me. Work about to sack me. I wake up but the feelings are still there for a good 5 mins.

Inverse Tetris

I'm a fireman, had to organise a knees up for all staff and the chief, on the to way to the venue there's an empty tower block in Peterlee (there's not) that collapsed across the main road as we all passed. Most of this odd dream consisted of me crawling through gaps to get to any people needing rescuing... then it was me getting stuck in small spaces, then that turned into me making excuses not to go further into the building because I was too fat to get down some of the corridors that we're now upside down..... A bit like an inverse game of tetris.

He's not dead..

My dead dad is not dead. It was a joke and a prank to see if anyone actually cared. Devised by himself.

He's still alive (in the dream/nightmare) and living in the old people home. He wears a cravat and reads aloud Mills & Boon novels to the residents for pocket money and sexual favours.

The time I dated Princes Diana, and how I killed her

I was going out with Princess Diana, and taking her to places behind Prince Charles back. Thing is, I had to carry her on my shoulders everywhere we went (its a class division thing, she was upper class and I was working class!).........
She wanted to goto an 80's disco so I found one but it had an incredibly steep staircase down to the dance floor, so steep that it resembled an almost vertical drop with small ledges to hold onto.... I got about halfway down with her still on my shoulders, when I dropped her.. She smashed into every ledge on the way down ending up in a crumpled mess on the floor below.....Oh shit, shit shit shit. How was I going to explain that I'd accidently killed the next Queen of England.....
Quick, call for her chauffer, I have an idea..

Susan playing TV Poker

Another Susan (my dead sister) dream.
This time she was in her bedroom sitting on a purpose built couch with built in big TV displays playing what looked like poker. Lots of poker chips, green baise table top with a grid and numbers on it. A yellow ellipse like saucer with coloured poker chips on, a condensed version of the green baise above. I thought she might be a home worker type thing where she took Skype calls for power games like a croupier. But no, she said she got the set up cos she was a good customer playing poker.

Mark Lamar's 1960's bottle top collection

I just saw a crash between a post van and a bus, the post van spewed the entire collection of Mark Lamar's 1960's record and bottle top collection over the road.  I had to help pick it all up, I even chased down two buses that had flattened bottle tops stuck in the tires. Mark was devastated of course, he was also having a 'bad hair' day..... Oh the humanity.

Bus showing Mark Lamars' bottle top collection imbedded into tyres

Car Park Ticket Forging... On motorbikes

Woke up thinking it was a movie I'd seen at some point. About a failed fat musician (fat Elvis) who has discovered that a species of grass can copy any pattern from whatever was placed on top of it (like a photocopier). So he goes about forging car park tickets so he can then get refunds for them from ticket machines (25p at a time)...This is done through the movie on motorbikes (akin to 'on ice' type events)..... And when I woke this morning I spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to remember the movie name.....

Fat Elvis on his motorbike, scooting off to fraudulently cash in fake Car Parking tickets.