I raised myself out of bed with several jet engines attached to arms and legs. I found a map of town on the top of my head and followed it. I had the briefest of times as captain on the bridge of the Queen Boadicca and then sailed serenely into a peopled evening. At the end of the day (and the year!) I had to be peeled of a laughing wall.
I went visiting in the morning, earlier than usual and accompanied by my friend the owl king. After staying in the warm for a few hours I returned to the cold Anglo-Saxon camp where the hunting weapons were being polished. I ascended like an archangel in the dark afternoon and then floated down like a feather into my nightly wine cup.
I started the day by raising my arm like the dead warrior in Guernica. I then dressed myself in chocolate wrappers and squeezed between chinks in the wall. I tried to get back into my studio (which had been vacationing in the South of France) but the clock didn’t like it. At the end of the day my dinner was delivered by Viking longboat.
Another day away from home - we had to trek across the plastic land where plastic people lay with arms outstretched in a perpetual embrace - we then played with the baby and ate miscellaneous parts from a model kit. I dreamed of raising the dead while television screens duelled at a multitude of false dawns. I was worried by the amount of weight Poppy has gained.
I was out as early as possible from the hover house overlooking the boat yard - this is where the seventeen children I once was grew fruit and then secretly ate them. I went out in desert clothes and was surprised when I came back with bits of the tropical rain forest attached to my overalls. With these same clothes I went to the factory in search of a chimney to smoke.
Today disappeared like a lavatory flush; someone pulled on a cord and all the bells rung. In time to the music I danced in the mud with small sheets of paper stuck to me - my wife meanwhile burrowed into the flesh of a huge sea serpent that sailed by with the whole of the Trojan war enacted on the broad expanse of its kaleidoscopic back.
It was a bitterly cold day and there was a whole queue of us space refugees walking along the knife blade edge. Smoke emanated from the top hat I was wearing and the fairies wished themselves into existence before annihilating each other with bursts of negative energy. I paced around the cold space as memories of fifteen previous lives sorted themselves according to density.