Quiet comes me down. My face feels hot. Heady, heavy. space timbers, straw bones and wooden faces, carved out of desire and pain once, if not all endings, lurching from one thing to another, etchings and sandcastles, it will all fall one day this will end One long, large tidal wave running the length of Mothercombe Beach and the river. Directly as the blue light lit the room, I am cast back to a house I lived in in Brighton, a friend I lived with on the floor above lit his bedroom day and night in the same blue tone. Ignored electricity bills. Iseen escalations followed us for some years after leaving the property. One particular night, spent under the blue hue, dancing on roller blades, circling one another, comes to mind. I close my eyes as I receive this memory, and tears p clearing my vision, strong sensation in my right hand, the blue room and the heavy electricity build, that friendship and the era of living underneath all left floating like a fish tank somewhere in the hind brain of my experience and only now I remember the ex lover of mine that paid the bill on our behalf to stop it escalating further. And the late night rollerblades accompanied by Enya track, sailway, sail away, sailways. Outside the room is just space. We float on in nothingness, attached an umbilical cause, connecting us back to Earth. She is distant suddenly a pool and we hurle back a viciously fast recoil. I fall out of the window and explode a million little pieces, my eyeball stays Let’s see. The p seems to make you want to hold it. You feel its weight and warmth, hearty soup, a large, strong, full day passed in an empty dark room warm Part of a longer dream, near the bottom of the sea, the bottom is bright yellowy sand. The sea is bright turquoisise blue, a little ginger kitten is swimming in the water far from the surface. It’s incredible. How is it down here? This follows something destructive having happened. It seems impossible that this tiny kitten has survived. I look into a noisy galaxy shaped, like my eye in the middle of the people, a circular peep hole, the image in the peephole keeps changing. I swipe, swipe, swipe, swipe. I spot a bird and then a deer and a ladybird and the pictures feel like stockcards One night, I dreamt that I was rowing in an eight, an image of my own adolescence. We were out of step. I was out of step with the crew. It was an image of frustration. The dream that comes to mind takes me back about 15 years. I think it’s triggered by this blue lights. The blue lights of the imagination is a technique I learned from a Tbatan. When I was living in.. One. Lama. Yep, that one. When I was living in Malok and new come the soil, he was initiating in dream yoga the in he he instructed us to meditate on this blue light before sleeping. Sorry. Sorry.. A swimming pool in a le centre. There were parts indoor parts outdoor. At the doorways between there were long rubber plasty bits like curtains. This meant you couldn’t see the outside from the inside or the other way around, although in the dream, I remember only looking at the entrance exit from the inside. inside, the indoor felt like a small space as it was very busy. I could only see the tops of people’s heads, outdoors. I don’t remember much of. It was wild, dangerous, elemental. There were steep waterfalls that you might slide or fall down. The landscape was dramatic. Hard to grasp much about either. It was like the world was this leisure centre, not somewhere you’d visit, but somewhere you live, somewhere everybody lives. I am a double negative of myself, a floating ghostly celluloid fragment, and I bubble in the middle and melt and burn descend lost to the air. turned out and folded in. There’s an image of the Earth, as seen from space, and my body did not exist in this image. I was weightless. I could see across the surface of the Earth. Migrations, the shoal of Wales. Is that the right word moving up the Pacific Ocean from south to north in Africa, the migration of mammals up the Serengeti swallows from Africa to Europe. can I sure this image. What is it? It looks like an eye with thick lashes that are almost like feeling nodes. It’s pupil dots almost like a clock telling us it is quarter past nine. It’s split that I, it bleeds the pupil outwards.