I've dreamt so much sick stuff for the past two weeks it's enough to fill a regular year of supply for me. I feel I have to start keeping notes.

Last night I dreamt that I was sitting in our living-room sofa, smartly dressed: buttoned-down blue, new shirt, hair plastered across my head (don't ask, it was surreal), knees together with hands on them. X entered the room from the right and I merely twisted my head in her direction to see what was going on. She was a Whirling dervish, hands flailing, body rotating, skirt afloat. She hit some paintings on our walls that came crashing down, while yelping to and fro.

Suddenly, I saw Blixa entering the room, standing on her hind legs, dressed like a Romani gypsy while banging a tambourine to X's dancing. The both suddenly stood still before me in their respective constellations. The end.

Like De La Soul once asked: what does it all mean?