I dreamt last night of comedian David Mitchell. He was seated in a drawing room, a Bunsen burner perched on a stand in front of his face, flaring forcefully upwards in unsteady tongues. He tilted his face directly over the flames for a good second, sat back in his chair, and moaned “aghhh, feelings” in…

I dreamt last night I was stood under a shelter on a country property. I was holding an empty glass bottle. Many ants were wandering around on the surface. I tried to sweep them away with my hand, unsuccessfully. A woman arrived. She reminded me this was the wrong approach. She demonstrated, holding the butt…

I’m in a clearing by a river and a small settlement of permanently sited caravans. I am in search of an egg, specifically for its shell, in service of some kind of ritual of sexual gratification. I approach a chicken coup beside one of the caravans. I fumble about and extract an egg. Walking away,…

I’m in a clearing by a river and a small settlement of permanently sited caravans. I am in search of an egg, specifically for its shell, in service of some kind of ritual of sexual gratification. I approach a chicken coup beside one of the caravans. I fumble about and extract an egg. Walking away,…

My experience begins in an ordinary dream state. I sit cross-legged, as a child, in the front yard of a childhood home. Before me, hovering a few inches above the ground, is a thick pane of glass extending forever to the sides and to the sky. My hands are stretched under the glass, playing with…

I arrive at an apartment complex for an inspection. I text the agent, who buzzes me up. “Come to floor 14.” A metal stairwell ascends a towering glass atrium. At each landing it turns back on itself, however the landings are not connected to the walls of the atrium – they offer no access to…

The survivors – soon to be –Their outlines, chalked in ashen black… And underneaththe wordsthe primitive arcsthe dashessomehow bleeding in our minds (tethers to Timeanchors destined to lie limpbehind the onward-pressing Ocean) on the long wall we madefrom the Earth we barely knew was usthe dry red wall that we became (as if we deservedthat…

(Ed: This one starts out humdrum, but becomes fascinating.) I’m on a country property with a large house and many other large outbuildings. There are many tradespeople working around the property. I enter the house to use the toilet. As I stand at the toilet I realise that raining down from the leaky bathroom ceiling…

A closed glass cylinder. Rounded ends. Long. Narrow. Perhaps ten centimetres long and one millimetre thick. Floating. Smooth and sparkling. In a barely lit space. Filled. A tiny volume of bright red liquid. Part of me watches from one side. Another aspect of my mind is an infinitely thin, invisible circular plane. Centred just inside…

Across the wide Carlton street, from where I stand, two words lean casually against a wrought iron fence. They glance occasionally back and forth along the street, their eyes narrow, their focus distant – as if scoping to hitch a ride on some passerby’s tongue – then down at the footpath, their own fingernails, and,…