It started when one of my field staff phoned to complain that our latest report had had an extract from a book about canoeing in the Caucasus inserted at the end as an advertisement. I tried to send emails complaining to the publications people at work from my childhood homes, but couldn’t. Meanwhile I recognised the name of the author of the canoeing book as G, a guy I had vaguely known through the Northern Irish board-games scene twenty years ago. Wandering around the university campus looking for him, I discovered I could fly, or at least lean backwards and hover at low level, and was rounded up by the security staff and brought to their office, where I found G sitting behind a desk. Mysteriously he now had two bodies, one with blank skin instead of eyes which did all the talking, and a mute cyclopean body sitting beside it, slowly blinking its double-pupilled eye, but making all the appropriate facial expressions.

And then I woke up.

Edited to add: I normally find other people’s dreams really dull to read (or listen to) and rarely inflict my own on people, but this was very weird. I notice also that two other people on my f-list felt compelled to blog about their dreams of last night. There was obviously something in the air.