The plan was a simple one, me and J.S. (a friend from Junior School) were to accompany a third guy into a shop.
This third guy would pretend to buy something extravagant, and then at the last moment only buy one very simple thing.
This third party member reminds me of Charlie from the The Official Podcast which my brother listens to whilst exercising.
J.S. and I had skateboards which we'll use to run away when the joke is played.
Charlie pulls down a huge box from a shelf, a Maltesers pack the size of an old fashioned travelling trunk, the kind of thing you stow in a steam train's cargo or a sail ships hold.
Heaving the red cuboid onto the counter Charlie picks a small thing from the visible confectionery and adds it to his order.
Suddenly, and I don't quite know why, we must run!
Charlie has broken the limits of joviality, he's taken things too far somehow.
I throw my small skateboard down to the pavement outside and begin my escape.
J.S. goes one way, I go another.
Right in front of me the Police pull up, cascade from the vehicle and into action, grabbing J.S.
Did they notice me?
I step from the board, pick it up,
pull it close into my chest and walk away from the Police.
I make a point of dawdling slowly and aimlessly like the other school kids walking about (for I am of school age myself).
I even slow down and take a seat.
The Police are gone.
A girl I know plonks down unhappily, sitting close by, sad in her own attentions.
Another fragment: black stallions on a green field disappearing now as the my train carries on.
My friends (school friends) invitations to join me are lost in my effulgence.
But as the previous scene falls away, a new vista comes.
Even more black stallions!
Just like Lloyds Bank advertisements.
These ones were frolicking in a beautiful river stream.
But I had to correct myself, as we drew closer we all saw them to be hippopotamuses.
Jet black hippopotamuses!
We were astonished.
They were glistening in the qualities of a summer sun.
Or was the word "hippopotami", I now asked myself.
The black hippos, like the black stallions, passed inexorably into the past and out of site.
Our expectations were primed, what would this fateful journey next reveal!
There it was a huge pure black glistening otter climbing out of the waters of a great lake and onto the land.
At least that's what I cried out as I saw it, but this was a large animal, more like a seal than an otter.
Now the waters were behind us and the land brought white lambs into view.
Must I admit it?
I think I must.
Perhaps the lamb was announced with something a little less than the pomp and exuberance of before.
But anyway, green fields, good rambling terrain, unfurled before us.
After a white lamb, a memorial of white bricks laid at crazy angles.
Like a bone white coral reef.
The whole thing formed a mound of substantial earth and importance.
I wondered what it remembered as it too passed us by.
Sometimes dreams have a single continuous thread, sometimes many separate strands.
Here is another.
A great wall of Victorian red brickwork stood three stories above me, flat and functional.
But in this flat ochre surface footholds and been left by leaving out a brick here and there, and at the top were hatches into the heart of the thing.
Our job was to be at those hatches stoking the great furnace within.
I think my family were responsible for different hatches, I don't know because I didn't want to look around to much and fall.
It was all I could do to cling on and use a small trowel to push some clay about inside this brick machine.
Yes, that was my responsibility.
I could see, in the corner of my eye, that other functions were performed at the other hatches.
Here I shaped a sopping wet grey mix which hardened into stone.
There they added fuel to the fires, or cleared out ash, or something beyond my station.
I had to relocate, a dangerous necessity, but I needed a new tool.
A descent and a return to the working heights, bricks loosening, footholds crumbling.
Each time I moved about my footfalls pulled the towering wall slightly apart.
I made it back up in the company of my drumming heartbeat, but I was sure I couldn't make it back down.
But now I found another hatch near my station with a bounty of implements inside;
just the thing for a job like mine.
But a great army was gathered below, of muskets and swords and military authority, and the most venerated of them all called out my name and bid be come forth, which I did in the eerie silence of thousands of men.
I had the sense of looking out from behind a false beard and a false cap of rank, both of which closed in on my vision as I approached.
He called me by a rank and surname which I didn't recognise but did understand.
As if it couldn't belong to anyone else.
With extreme ceremony he allowed me to take position at the front of a column of marching men, which I did.
And then the sweep of movements carried us all forward; me trying to learn as quickly as possible what my responsibility was.
Often the men caught me up and I strode out again earnestly trying to do what it is a leader does in this circumstance.
I saw an excellently uniformed officer, replete with braids and tassels and striking colours, who saluted as he changed direction by ninety degrees.
This I emulated and started to gain a confidence in making my own turns, although I couldn't tell if I was being followed in my choice or if everyone had chose a left march owing all to a deeper schedule.
Norm MacDonald was going for another cake.
Let's get the tin out he suggested again.
I smiled at his attentions, why not get them all out I said, which he happily did.
I was nonplussed to learn weed was the key ingredient in each recipe, a notion which Norm heartily endorsed.
I had eat a cookie before knowing this salient fact.
A large dinner and we chat with Keanu Reeves amidst many guests.
Keanu is out of sorts, at odds with my understanding of his personality.
He's wearing large thin-framed glasses which turn blue when he takes a selfie.
I admire his transmutable blue shades, those are some amasing blue glasses, I say.
I'm cognisant of a dislike, however, for the un-blued original.
I ignore that aspect, and I wonder if it is right to ignore it and speak only of the good.
But a deeper awareness reminds me my apprehension was not for the clear lensed incarnation, it was for the possibility that others may dislike it.
A strange internalising of a potential threat.
No need to expedite chaos.
Chaos can arrive in it's own time.
And what's this, Chris Pratt and Ryan Reynolds ascending an arctic stage, snow on their Parka's.