Saturday, April 2, 1983
Another dream, also very strange and vivid. I had Helen Vaughan’s decomposing head in a plastic carrier bag, which for some unexplained reason I was carrying around with me. I forget now the insane logic behind everything. Even though I daredn't look, I knew it was her by the hard ridge of her Roman nose imprinting itself through the plastic. It kept banging accidentally against obstacles as I walked. I saw a huge reddish spider-crab type creature which crashed aimlessly through the undergrowth and scared me as it rushed this way and that.
Andrew was up early and off to Robert’s and Nanna P. was brought by Mum and Dad. In the afternoon I finished making notes on Up From Slavery and listened to Athletic lose 2-3 at Cumberhead on Radio North. Outside an unpredictable mix of sun and snow.
I fancied getting drunk in the evening so I called Grant, but he wasn’t yet back yet from his job at the El Dorado. I kept ringing but no answer. The thought of staying in made me feel bleak, bored and frustrated.
No one else to call, Lee a hermit by choice. Paranoid thoughts. “Keep Silence, like the point of a compass / For the King has erased thy name from the book of speech.”