Several of my friends and I are climbing a mountain. (By this I obviously mean a poxy mountain that one could walk up.) There is a severe blizzard and we get separated into two groups. Two of us stumble up to a surprisingly attractive house, halfway up the mountain. It is all on one level, in a 1960's American mountain lodge-style.

[I recognise it from somewhere, and it is from a previous dream when I dreamed that I was in a scout hut, and it had a gift shop. In that dream, the house was the scout hut.]

We look for somewhere to rest, but outside the master bedroom, there are three stools arranged in such a way that we know better than to go in. We settle in another room, with a spectacular full-length window that affords views down the mountainside.

As we drift off to sleep, an ex-classmate walks in with two bodyguards. He greets us warmly, and offers us full use of the facilities. He gloats somewhat about owning the house and the bodyguards, to the extent that it makes me want to leave, so we do.

The next day, I am cycling home, up Clarkston Road. It is extremely foggy, and visibility is almost nil. At Linn Park, my bike comes off the road and I career down a hillside. The front wheel gets lodged in some mud or snow, and I am completely stuck, and mildly exhilirated.

I am in a peculiar long room, with long tables down its length, much like the dining room at Hogwarts'. I am standing somewhere in the middle, with my family and Prince William. It seems that I am Prince William's cousin, and as such, I am standing bolt upright, so as to be taller than him, as is my wont. We talk awhile, but the prince has to go and join his immediate family for a royal procession.

There is, it appears, a traditional royal procession that happens every year. The royals start at the top of a bridge that spans a deep valley, much like the legendary Bridge level in America's Army. They proceed down a spiral staircase in left-hand (looking up the valley) support, and emerge into their dutiful public.

I am on the bridge, on the right-hand side, far away from the action. I notice that there are snipers and other security personnel all around, waiting for their chance to shoot an intruder. For some reason, I am injured, and I cannot walk. My only hope is to crawl over to the area where the Queen and her entourage are standing.

To do this, I must crawl past the snipers. I guess that crawling would make me look pretty suspicious, so I fear for my life. Fortunately, the snipers wave me through, and I enter a small palace, high above the valley floor. I crawl up onto a velvet chaise, where government officials surround me. The Foreign Secretary, looking rather like a Sir Edmund Blackadder, rushes to my side.

"Excellent," he says. "We'll have to tell your story of how the royals are one with the common man."

I am back at Heathrow Airport. I don't know why I keep returning here, but I have always been curious about it, and being there has always meant that I am going somewhere special. Nevertheless, I keep seeming to have the same dream about it, or at least a dream in which some things always happen. For example, I always walk along the front of the terminal building in a leftward direction, looking at it from outside on the landside. I'm also convinced that there is always a lift in the dreams, but I can't prove this from my archives. Nevertheless, onwards:

I have just arrived from Glasgow in Terminal One of Heathrow Airport. I appear to be at a loss for things to do, which pleases me, since I have always wanted to explore the surrounds. I also have a vague notion that I might be going to America with my aunt later that day, but I still have several hours to kill, nevertheless.

I see a doorway with an escalator immediately inside it. Above it is a sign that promises passage to Terminal Four. I step through the door and onto the steep escalator. It is at least a 45 degree angle downwards. It continues down until I reach the nadir of the V-shaped passageway. At this point the ceiling becomes too low for me to continue, so I hop onto the other escalator, and go back up to Terminal One.

A little interlude:

I am in the car park of PC World in Finnieston. A group of people and I are taking part in a work experience scheme with IBM. We are each handed a supplement from a newspaper. When I am handed mine, I am told that my placement will be in America, since I am going there soon with my aunt.

In the middle of the terminal concourse, instead of there being check-in desks, there is a large newsstand. I contemplate buying a magazine, before I realise that they never have that magazine you are looking for in airports, and once you're there, it's too late. I save my money therefore.

[As in this dream,] I walk along the inside of the terminal building in a generally north-west direction. At this point, the dream fades....

I spectate in this dream, and do not interfere with any of the characters. The premise is that somebody has committed an awful crime, and a group of people witnessed it. The criminal then stalks the witnesses, threatening them and their families. As the dream begins, we are in a multi-storey car park, next to a stadium, which is by the sea. The criminal, and at least two of the witnesses and their families are present. The dream, as far as I can tell or reason, references the following films:

• The Bourne Identity (2002)
• High Crimes (2002)
• Road To Perdition (2002)
• Casino (1994)

The assembled mass are going to an American Football game, and they are alone on an upper floor (probably the third floor) of the car park. The lift is jammed open, and appears to be broken. As he is here under duress, one of the witnesses considers jumping out of the car park, but the criminal senses this, and puts a stop to it.

Some people try to repair the lift, by throwing circuit boards and microchips at it, but this serves only to make it more precarious. Sensing that the cable is about to snap, the criminal snatches one of the witnesses' young daughters, jumps into the lift, and - a split second after it begins to fall - jumps out again.

We see a police car driving along a harbour-side. There is a large ship adrift in the harbour. The policeman stops his car, gets a large rope, and moors the boat at the quayside. In a wide-angle shot, we see the policeman mooring the bow of boat at the left-hand edge. At the right-hand edge, in the distance, at the stern of the boat, we can just make out some security agents or spies firing a gun at somebody. The criminal dies and is thrown into the harbour.

I am Reese, the elder brother of Malcolm in the Middle, and Malcolm and I are on a double-date. My date is an enchantingly pretty young lady.

We are sitting on a London-bound Virgin train; I am facing back. The conductress comes along, and I realise that I cannot find my ticket. In my pocket, I can find a bundle of loose change, my Zonecard, and my Young Persons' Railcard with about a hundred tickets inside it. On hearing my plight, she says she'll come back and get it later.

At that, the train slows to a stop, and then starts moving in reverse. Soon, my Zonecard is valid again.

The action, and its four main characters are transposed to a street corner in the West End of Glasgow, somewhere between Sauchiehall and St. Vincent Streets, west of the motorway. For whatever reason, I run away to the northwest.

I come to an oblong square, with tenements on all four sides, and a basketball court in the centre. About fifteen young people are playing basketball, but when I approach, they spread out, like in West Side Story, across the road, to confront me.

I run through a gap in the, and turn south at the south-western corner of the square. I run back to the street on which this escapade began, and rejoin my date. And we lived happily ever after.

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