I walked barefoot in the snow of a Mediterranean morning, collected fires and thawed them out. I put my energy against the glass wall and watched the stasis outside. June pulled a chimney pot down over her head as I watered the desert. The desert flowered and the church bells discussed their diary commitments. Afterwards, I pulled Freyia from the ground and gently pushed her through the sky – paperbacks flew overhead.
I put myself in a large bag and carried myself to the place where I grew up. In the giant’s parlour I played a tune on a piano without keys (all the keys were filling holes in the walls where the whispers poked through) and exchanged gifts. I came home by wagon train, we formed a circle twice on the way back – each time a piece of string was threaded through. I collected all the threads up and tied a knot in them.
I had a loop of morning to climb through and a reasonably energetic afternoon – I practiced gymnastics with a group of flies who were moving through in search of enlightenment. After this, and after replacing the coloured beads of a child’s rosary with small skulls, I went back to the kindergarten to threaten the old men with tales of their childhood. I pulled my hat right down over my face and looked out of window built into the top.
I had an early message from a young girl dressed in a silver sardine suit. There was very little space for our conversation. Just as the can was almost overflowing with words I managed to squeeze in several reminisces of winged demigods circling over my neglected garden head. Later I walked around my neglected body garden, touching finger tips with the almost invisible people I always suspected lived out there.
Because I still had a bad back I invented a mechanical spider which I could stand on and circumnavigate the World offering advice to all people who hide in invertebrate suits. In a dream I became Moses the stick insect. I managed to finish a prayer encased in amber and promenaded with the dog down an aisle of laughing policemen. As an artistic exercise I ended the day painting brown stains in white underpants.
After waking (with a saw in my hand – I don’t know why), I slid down stairs on a children’s slide – the stairs had ran off with a very interesting Norman portal which stood by the local tea shop. I had my breakfast on a playground roundabout and then had an intense conversation with June while we both sat on a rope swing. After this the dog took us out for a walk. On our return I discovered a new continent in a milk stain on the tablecloth.
I found myself in a balloon that someone must have blown up when I cleaned my teeth with a pet crocodile. I was bobbling under the ceiling and watching a world which was predominantly orange – I enjoyed the view and counted the hairs on the head of a Belisha Beacon who was modelling a new range of clothes which will hit the street later in the year. I looked up as my wife walked into the room holding a pin.