Dream Choreography

[Michael Barwell]

Dream choreography max' last night the dream conferencing/espionage thing: during a conversation last night, in response to the offer of an all-expenses paid trip round Europe in a Winnebago , I made it quite clear that the shitehounds get nish my life is effectively over and it's that dieR taP thing, the only thing I have is a fuck you & eat shit' to the shitehounds.

So. Dc-max was almost inevitable;

As usual, just 2hrs or so after sleep, a dc of being almost mobbed/harangued' by a bunch of excitable teenage-mentality (inverted commas) wannabe idealogues-on-a-jolly-for-nish-but-the-shits-n'-kicks types, a fragile vulgus of over-inflated & gossamer-thin airheads the usual, sound-boarding off each other like a bunch of fasces. Scene, a tall domestic building like several I've lived-in (and indeed mentioned just last night), internally as tho' those Flanders houses, tall & thin. Followed up 2-3 flights of stairs (hardly chased as I was up for the gobshitteries, but it's that same, usual intent), pausing to standfast at will. (Very similar flavour to a home invasion dc I had 6-8months ago). All quite confrontational [click] accepted & returned; not threatening, more [click] dc's the other dc' daft cunts, in a frothy, wet- blanket sort of way. A part where I'm punched' to the left side of my face/nose, & whilst the goo-goumier self-importantly self-policed [click] (holding him back - ooooh - scary) I'm saying "It was nothing", as I've been punched' by a cat harder than that in realworld; more worrisome had been the sneezed appearance of bright green snot from the arm-chukker shortly before he'd wiped his hand in it with me consequently getting a light dose from the hand "Ooh, - dirty boy!".

And that pretty much was that; I stood my ground physically & verbally. They seem to be really wretched types they've been frequent in the dc's, the frothy, gurning, gobshite maniacal & over-excited types with no life experience & a surfeit of bullshit, very much the idiot-savant on home ground one step off their path and they wither visibly; alone & unsupported by a gaggle of like minds, & the same, able only to operate individualistically, hence the fasces. Terrifically loud & empty vessels, deeply vapid >ahem< & onanistic, soundboarding off one another.

Within moments of waking, a siren c.9:05am, & that very very loud & strong sensation of hissing at the usual point immediately adjacent to the top front right ear, which I assume to be radio-frequency reception from a micro-electrode array/aerial.

They ref "church/religious/christ-ian/& No.18's "Doing gods work" which I've mentioned before, & there sure be that idiotic evangelical god-botherer fervour & zealotry about them, but it seems to me that they're just self-indulgent acolytes of their own neo/nouveau [click] David Krèche type figure, who in turn basks in the reflected glow of a wide-eyed & moon-faced verbande of wacoes, a kind of adoration of the maggots "What would you rather have - $10,000 or the ability to control bees?" Pigeon-brained as well as pigeon-toed (mentioning no names Sippo Khazi).



There's something of a hint in the mental process with that dc when that lad chucked a fire extinguisher off that building in London during those student demos, I think, 'cept in his case, I'm guessing it was a temporary aberration in the moment, rather than a more profound, chronic condition.