Dream Mind A Series of Dream Images in Words Nick Armbrister

 

Dream Mind

A Series of Dream Images in Words

 

Nick Armbrister

 

 

42…

My dream flung me back into my hometown, the shithole bastard town so worthy of its name, Oldham. I was there days before I’m due to arrive. And the crap was bad. I was again accosted by chavs. I walked past them and they flicked a chain at my bike jacket back. I turned round to their catcalls and laughs. I simply said Please be good now and walked off. Then I was at my mates and we got drunk. Lots of other things happened. Each one a dream chapter…

 

 

 

43…

Bissmith Witch was a real fucking bitch who always hot her own back on people in their dreams for the sheer hell of it. She was from Oldham Shithole town. Tho she was immortal the witch liked to feel human. This put her in touch with her victims. Right now Bissmith Witch had very bad flu. Her snot was green, her body ached, her muscles were sore, she kept sneezing, her ugly face was red, and her eyes watered. It was time for a spell! Time to hit some big wigs. Among the group of professionals she loathed there was a few she would destroy: lawyers, bankers, insurance companies, politicians and many more. She tracked them via their dreams, identified their weakness and struck. Her magic now worked. With a sneeze she got ready to sleep. It was time for war. Her first target was a local lawyer…

 

 

44…

Confused images filled his mind. What did they mean? Where did they come from? What was their purpose? And a million other questions. Questions asked not in words but feelings. How was that possible? It went on and on and on. A great galactic spiral of images, feelings, events and more. His life and dreams were but an example. So miniscule they were almost irrelevant. But they mattered because they existed and were something rather than nothing. In this cosmic swirl a mere individual was as important as a God and vice versa. Here scale was equal. A God was an individual and an individual was a God.

 

45…

The man took his wardrobe out for a walk. It was tall brown and wooden with wheels. It was tall brown wood and with wheels. He went round all the roads of Shithole Oldham. It wasn't easy navigating with his wardrobe. Inside was the Wanderer in a gag and noose. Going past the allotments he heard the neighbour saying that Art had an old bike and the engine was a self-styled masturbator. This added to the garage that was subsiding up the road. What a strange dream...

 

 

46…

I had a course on a training program doing painting and sign writing. It was in a big building. There were a lot of us painting boards. The woman called Kath was our boss, she was nice but strict. I had a problem that ended my time there. I was offered a job at a small coach company repairing the buses. I was paid a wage and not allowance like on the training course. This was my first day and I missed a day at the training place. I'd rather work than train. After finishing at the new job I thumbed a ride in an artic unit. The driver and his mate were on their way to the depot and dropped me off. They had a powerful rig. I went in to find Kath at closing time. She was vexed. The lads were finishing off. I made my way past them and found her. She ignored me! I said Hey Kath. Then got her attention. I told her of my new job and how I started today. I had no credit and couldn't call. Sorry to let you down. She was cold to me no longer the sexy blond cougar. Any thoughts of wanting to fuck her were now eradicated. I said I've got a job and seeing his it goes. No goodbyes or fanfares. This is how it is in my crap town when in the dole or out of work. At least it wasn’t real…