dreams of a sick and twisted mind, volume two

And you thought this blog was dead.

So, I'm on a bus - this is a dream - I'm on a bus and this guy sitting next to me basically starts hitting on me. Long slightly creepy story short, we start going out.

A few weeks later, we're in this bar - looks fairly fancy but I've never been there nor have I any idea where it could be. It's light outside. Anyway, my mum and some other people are there too. He (I don't actually know his name) asks me if I'm going to leave that joint there all night. I look down and sure enough there's a big one in the ashtray. I look up but my mum doesn't seem to have noticed. I don't have a lighter, so he lights it and takes the first puff. I take the second. Oh man, is this stuff strong. I feel it come on almost immediately. We take a few more and I stop caring that there are other people there.

We're back at the house (my house) stoned out of our brains when I start tripping. Just little stuff - like we're lying on the couch side by side, and we're looking at each other meaningfully, and I reach out to touch him and he's not there. He is in fact in the kitchen. Weird.

But then I totally phase out. I'm not even remotely conscious of what I'm doing.

Suddenly I'm at DJ Warehouse. This is in Leichhardt. I take no notice of that fact. So anyway I'm looking around and there's more clothes than I remember, but mostly raver stuff, you know, reflective shiny gear. So I go upstairs - more clothes. I realise there's actually only clothes here. I come back down and ask the lady at the counter "Didn't there used to be lights and stuff upstairs?" She shakes her head, wild-eyed.

I'm coming down as I walk out the door. I realize suddenly where DJ Warehouse is and how far I must have come to get here. I'm alone, too - he's not with me. Crap, they must have no idea where I am. I have to get home.

As I come down I realise something - I'm probably still tripping. This whole thing is a halucination... as I come down further the scenery starts to change. Big buildings become smaller, car yards become playgrounds. I'm in Allambie. Relax, I think to myself, maybe you're still tripping. But I know in my heart that's not true.

I really am in Allambie.

Fuck.

At least I'm reasonably close to home, I think. It's a half-hour bus trip from here, and one is coming right now. It's not a regular bus, though. It's painted silver and purple in some crazy designs and it's full of people, some of whom I think I know. There's a large window - big enough to climb through - at the back. Through it I can see a guy I definitely know - Anthony Taylor. He says incredulously, "Morgan? Hey man, you need a ride?"
I say "Yeah, man. Badly."
He says "Hop in."

Rather than go through either of the doors however, I decide to jump through this huge window, which there are hand-grips beside, probably for that exact reason. It's rather like rock-climbing. I say "Give me a hand, will ya?"
He says "Not unless you stop acting like an asshole towards me."
The bus is now actually starting to drive away.
I say "What are you talking about?"
He says "You always acted like an asshole towards me. I need to know it's going to stop."
At this point we're actually approaching the speed limit. Although I think to myself "You stole my iPod, I'm never going to forgive you for it," I say to him "Okay man, whatever."
He pulls me through onto the bus.

I explain my predicament. He says "Damn, man, you must have been pretty fucked up."

"Yeah. Yeah I was."

By the time I get home, everyone's in bed, and my man is nowhere to be found.