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i had a dream last night

Overslept, overslept. Forgot where I was supposed to be, woke up badly, head full of dreams. Not as bad as Damian's, though; he found me in the shower. "I dreamt Fiona Jerome had got you to help her to behead herself," he said, "And then that two other BAPAans jumped on the bandwagon and wanted you to behead them, too.* You were getting ready to do it (using a sort of small guillotine device) when I woke up. I remember thinking that it was typical that everyone was getting you to do the difficult, unpleasant tasks."

Then things started trying to stop me from going to work. My trousers were dirty. I remembered, I'd got them filthy at the end of the last week so I'd have to wash them before I wore them to work again. Had I done any washing? No. Then one of my shoes was gone. I walked around the house in one shoe for a bit, fighting the logical conclusion that it was in the kitchen, it had just fetched up either in the laundry basket or in the rubbish sack. It was in the laundry basket, thank god, but I own neither pets nor children and this sort of thing isn't supposed to happen. Then all the lights on Cowley Road went red as I approached them. Then I got something in my eye in the Clarendon Centre. Then ...

Oh, never mind.

* Fiona Jerome is a journalist, who used to be in BAPA, an Amateur Press Association of which I was also a member. Notable for her iron will, interest in comics and ability to organise 30 people into an effective restaurant party. Edited Bizarre magazine for a while.