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They had turned one of the tracks on the London Underground into a rollercoaster ride , and we were excitedly getting strapped in, pulling the metal bar down across our laps. We were in Baker Street station, where the two platforms for the Circle and Hammersmith and City lines are, two tracks for trains going in opposite directions. Only one of the tracks had been converted to rollercoaster, the other still serving the normal trains, and when I looked to the left, I could see people lining the platform, heading home from work, waiting for their train and giving us evil looks as we got ourselves strapped in.

Later, I think our rollercoaster went deep into somebody's head - can't remember who, think it might have been an old schoolfriend - in a way reminiscent of similar scenes in Being John Malkovich, you know the bit where they are crawling through brainflesh tunnels (it was a long time ago when I saw that film but I think I'm remembering it right). Can't remember what we did in there though, it might have been just a sightseeing tour.

And then the other bit I remember, I don't know what the link was, how I got from that to this, but I was figuring out some Sufjan Stevens song on the guitar - I even remember what chords I played in the dream, I was playing it at the right rhythm and it sounded good. And then I woke up to find the computer playing Sufjan Stevens's Come On Feel the Illinoise!, having finished with The Streets, which I had fallen asleep to, and carried on in alphabetical order. The Sufjan Stevens album is one I like but not love, yet when I woke up, right between the speakers, it sounded like heaven.

I haven't checked the chords yet to see if I was right in the dream. It would be cool if I start figuring out and writing songs in my dreams though.

Come upheaval, come disquiet, though translucent and entirely him, his half-filled reign of fey Symphonies shudders to a wild resolution. Accordingly, he leaves off his crackling compositions to preside over the entire universe, and over legions of such beautiful angels. In the cold uncertain contact we had with him later, his energy had him rolling inexorably and intelligently towards some uncertain but doomed conclusion, where he lay in a tank half-filled with translucent green fluid. A transmitter or something beeped out a pitiful orchestra, then his 20,000-volt cables swung down out of thin air to turn all the electricity green. We knew sooner or later he’d ruin that tank and its beautiful electricity-singing liquid.




This has been a Dream of Music: (artist) Einstürzende Neubauten / (record) Ende Neu / (label) Nothing/Interscope

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