I felt better today as I sailed out of bed in a yacht with very dark hull and pale coloured sails – a figure; half woman, half bird, was tied to the mast. I dismounted from one of the four horses I had been riding and wrapped up a small image (representing Medusa) and placed it in a solitary shoe. I then took the dog out for a hop. She had been dreaming about holding hands with an eight armed Hindu Goddess and carried an elephant holding the world on her back. We circumnavigated the table top housing estate. The clouds touched the ground as I touched the ceiling.
I fed the horses galloping inside my head before getting up; June had slammed the door like an Amazonian warrior finding a man in her bed and shot herself to work. I removed the ex-Southern Railway Diesel Multiple Unit from among my clothes and dressed on an army firing range, missing the bullets but tripping over a huge fungal outgrowth shaped like a pair of orang-u-tan’s lips. I walked the dog in the forest of Borneo and then settled down in my lunar tree house to work. I collected June later from a shopping centre on the outskirts of the solar system.
June and I had a lay in, she on a bed of nails and me on a sea of molten magma. I sucked an ocean dry and then dropped a couple of continental plates into my smiling face teacup – I later turned the cup upside down. After passing the time of day with a fish humaning on a river bank (he had already caught a balding insurance salesman and a retired school teacher) I pruned the roses of Heliogabalus and then went out for a meal with June. The restaurant was lodged between the wings of a biplane and we ate among calligraphic contrails. I swum home in a vat of real ale.
After finding a missing Dead Sea scroll in a vacuum flask I pulled my Wellington boots from a designer Crimean mud patch and caught the train. On my arrival at the stone circle station I got a lift in a passing moa egg and marvelled at a congregation of churches which looked like petrified trees in the morning light. We rolled to a wood, where I helped several people in gorilla suits cut down ancient skyscrapers, and then royced back. When I finally got home June was entertaining a family of friendly trolls and I introduced myself as Peer Gynt.
I got up in the pitch and putt darkness and put on a my clothes like a cat burglar going up a downpipe – the dog went out on her own wearing a balaclava. The bus followed a B road and the sailing boat of my imagination navigated the alimentary canal of a hump backed whale. I met the old man sat in a bird nest of white beard and we talked of people in past times across a horizontal reproduction of Cleopatra’s needle. I saluted a vertical reproduction of the tomb of Jane Austen and then found the horse I fell off as a child while searching my trouser turnups.
June disappeared in a cloud of smoke at precisely 9.15am and materialised a quarter of a mile away on top of a hill. I swilled myself around in a glass of water and then jumped into a vacuum flask – only to find it was already occupied by a family of fire ants who promptly went out. I went out also, carrying a wildebeest from the Serengeti National Park. On my return I emerged from a supermarket carrier bag and sung a song to a hidden ring of Saturn. I then went upstairs to work; fitting a 42inch screen television into my beard as I did so.
June left to work as I was trying out a selection of new shadows; I settled on the shadow of a samurai warrior and then went out to fly a kite with a single bedroom bungalow attached to it. After witnessing a semi-detached house (with garage) re-enter the Earth’s atmosphere I climbed to the third floor of a two storey building. I worked in my room until June came home with a unicorn horn growing out of her forehead. I pulled a laurel tree out of my pocket and cast it at her feet; a family of miniature figures caught having an arboreal picnic jumped out and ran away.