Disappearing Photos

Two nights in a row I have seen wonderful sights in my dreams, and I tried to photograph of them on a (dream) iPhone. First was a wonderful vista in which orange sunlight flooded over the horizon onto a neon-pink oriental megacity.

Second was of a peculiar pink insect with strange biomechanical proboscis that made a sound like a sped up conversation. On both occasions, my reflexive instinct was to reach for my iPhone to try and photograph them. And on both occasions, I then looked at the imaginary iPhoto app to see the photos were gone.

Solving Mysteries

A close friend and I had embarked on a career of solving crimes. Turns out people were disappearing and being taken to a fallout shelter / FEMA internment camp beneath the department store John Lewis, and furthermore, somebody was manipulating people with mind controlling moths by putting caterpillars through their letterbox. BUT WHO?




I hit bedrock at the bottom of a Minecraft shaft and find myself in a basement packed with memories. Trunks full of old tapes of my grandparents speaking. Old vinyl records and toys I had long since thought were thrown away. But sitting in a corner is a box of nuclear materials from when my mum was building a nuclear bomb.

I break through the ceiling to see that I'm in the attic of my parents house. But outside, we are in another place, at the top floor of some alpine retreat. 

Orb Cannon

My friend Stephen and I invented a cannon that could shoot teleporting orbs. We fired it at my mate Alex but it only teleported the top of his head, leaving him gurgling about like Britney Spears in South Park. We then went on an adventure to try and find his missing upper head and sew it back on, but we couldn't remember the coordinates of where we sent it to.

The Real Me

My ex-girlfriend and I are outside Burger King in Princess Street, Edinburgh, during some kind of political event. Barack Obama walks past and decides to talk to us. She is somewhat bumbly and flustered and the exchange peters out quite quickly. Then he turns to me, being his genial and affable self.  

Me: Its okay you don't have to pretend to be yourself

Barry: People aren't ready for the real me

Me: (in Jack Nicholson voice) "You can't handle the truth" 

Barry: lol  

Civil War

And old friend and I were fighting in a civil war somewhere in Africa, but on different sides. He was trying to blow me up with a heat seeking bazooka whilst chortling like an utter bastard. But I foiled him and saved the day by sneaking up and twatting him on the back of the head SAS style.