Sometimes I'll have a dream that's so vivid and, I suppose, believably ordinary that I will wake up a believe it to be the case. Perhaps someone will give me a gift of sorts, and I'll wake up, feeling my bedside table for it. Or, as in this case, I'll be disappointed that the world is not quite as good as it was in the dream, and then I'll curse Monday and those bloody town planners... On with the long dream:
I am out for a drive with my dad and an eclectic carful of people. We drive through the countryside, over many a blind summit. At some stage, the car is in a lift, which emerges on the roof of a tall building. We decide to get out of the car and have a look around. The relatively small roof (for a skyscraper) is bustling with people in the mild summer air. I walk over to the edge of the building, and look down at what I take to be Glasgow. I can see two other megalithic buildings. One is a tall cylindric tower. The other is a more old-fashioned, New York-style skyscrape, which appears normal until I notice that it tapers to a point at its ground-level, near corner, on which it balances atop a smaller building. I am impressed by the rapid building work that has been going on in our glorious city, and make a mental note to visit both of the new towers. We walk up a ramp to our car, which has levitated on a thin piece of concrete, and ride the lift downstairs.
The next day, I am in town. My brother and I go into a cavernous homeware shop, which bores me thoroughly, so we soon leave. Outside, I look up at the precarious building, noticing that it is actually perched above an upstairs Chinese restaurant. We walk towards the river, and then turn east onto a riverside street, quite unlike the Broomielaw. There is an extremely long, yet merely two-storey building, which runs the length of the long block. My brother stops to get some cash from a machine, and a friend of his, who calls himself "Dave", but actually resembles The Fast Show's Mark Williams. I eye him with suspicion.