Dreamworld 3

I was stood in a circle of gangsters. The top gangster shot them all dead, one after the other. They dropped to the ground all stiff and motionless, one after the other. Then he offered me his car. It was a mini go kart, shaped like a batmobile. I took off it in at speed, then lifted off into the sky. I was flying. I soared over the rooftops in the moony night, then landed like a professional outside my flat. I rang my dealer, but his phone was engaged. I tried again and again until I eventually got through. He said he had none but was getting some soon. I waited and waited. Finally he got some and invited me round to his place. I took my bicycle, but the tyres were flat, and it was like cycling through treacle all the way there. At last I arrived, but he wasn’t in. I waited and waited again. When he arrived he said come in. He cut the drugs with a blunt knife. It took forever. My patience was wearing thin. When he handed me the fat white bag I got on my bike and tried to make my way home. The harder I pedalled, the slower my journey was. It was then I saw the Skullbuster fly across the sky. The Skullbuster was a huge metallic flying spacecraft in the shape of a skull. The noise it made was deafening. It cruised past me and disappeared between two wobbling skyscrapers. The skyscrapers were wobbling because the earth was shaking. I stood in awe, looking after the lingering shadow of the Skullbuster. Then I carried on home. My personal stripper was waiting for me in my flat. She had breasts the size of Christmas turkeys. I tried to remove my clothes but they wouldn’t come off. It was as if they were superglued onto my skin. I struggled for what felt like hours. Finally I was naked and I gave her a quick hug. We stuck to each other like sticky tape. I had to violently remove myself from her syrupy embrace. I addressed my drugs, emptying the white powder onto a mirror. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked like a teenage boy. My hair and teeth were better. My skin was smoother. I looked beautiful. My stripper started singing in anticipation of the festivities ahead. Her voice was melodic and graceful. I lived for drug-fuelled lovemaking with my stripper. It didn’t happen very often but when it did I was very happy. I took a rolled-up note and bent down to snort the goods. It was then I realised that all of the white powder had melted into water. My heart sank. It had evaporated into nothing. I snorted it anyway, knowing it would have no effect, knowing that all my efforts had been for nothing. My stripper stopped singing, and then she started evaporating too, like a ghost whose allocated time is up. And then I awoke, in my bed, free of the predictable disappointments of the dreamworld. I rang my dealer.