A Cheetah in Iceland!

I’m in what looks like rural Kenya, leaning against a tree whilst watching a possible fight break out between two little shits. The surroundings are actually pretty stunning, with hills rising all around me as the sun sets in the distance (well done to the ‘architect’ of my dream…. LOL I MADE AN INCEPTION JOKE). Just as the two boys are about to fuck each other up, somebody screams and suddenly I look up one of the surrounding hills and spot two cheetahs speeding towards us! Screams ring out everywhere, as people go all Godzilla and run for their little lives. Well,I do aswell.

I dart into a supermarket which has now appeared and run straight to the back and jump on top of an exposed fridge, like those ones in Iceland. Loads of others jump onto the fridge, while dozens of cheetahs pile into the shop. Fucking dozens! Shit is insane; cheetahs are literally leaping towards me while I dodge, duck, dip, dive and dodge them.

An opening arises, and I make a break for the exit, running straight past a bunch of cheetahs going H.A.M all over the shop. Weirdly, once I leave the supermarket, I’m now in somebody’s front garden, and the floor is covered in these huge red spider/cockroach-type bugs, which look like they’re climbing out of one of those wormholes from Gears of War.

Wheelchair Grand Prix: Downhill

It all begins at some kind of weird university sporting event, in an even weirder setting. Impossible to describe this accurately but I’m basically standing on a crowded platform, high up a steep hill, and attached to the platform is a wide track heading straight down the hill. At the top of the track are about 5 or 6 guys sat in wheelchairs, ready to race each other down this death-run! Stupidly, I’ve signed myself up to race next in a pair of roller skates, and for some reason I’m pretty psyched about it. It then starts to rain, and my race is postponed.

Suddenly I’m at the bottom of the hill, playing golf on a course that heads up towards the platform. I tee off, and twat a driver 374 yards straight onto a par 4 green. Then I realise I’m not actually playing golf, but in fact I’m watching a replay on Tiger Woods 2011, on the Xbox, in my living room.

Now I’m back at the top of the platform, and the rain has stopped. I walk across the now deserted platform to find a guy called Danish, who’s shooting a rifle at a set of targets which have appeared, while he smokes a bong. A security guard walks over with a handful of water ballons, and starts launching them off the side of the platform towards the people below.

Guide to Shitting at Reading Festival

It starts out at the Bernabeu. Spurs away at Real in the first leg, and what a game it is. Van der Vaart through on goal, cuts inside and twats one across the keeper into the top corner! 1-0 Tottenham.

Suddenly I’m at my second home, Reading Festival. I’m walking through the campsite with a brilliantly random collection of people who have never been/will never go near Reading. I need to take a shit. This (as anyone who has been will know) is a major problem. The toilets at Reading are probably the worst toilets ever designed by man. So bad that I honestly think shitting your pants would be more enjoyable.

Anyway, back to ze dream. I walk up to the toilets and see a massive queue for the mens, so I run over to the womens where I bump into a hot American-Apparel girl who says I can share a cubicle with her… Before I can even say “fuck it, sure”, she’s gone. I walk around the campsite trying to find her and stumble into some kind of weird wooden shack, full of Chinese people brushing their teeth. I start running, remembering that I need to shit but the inevitable happens. I wake up. And go straight to the toilet!

Nicki Minaj goes H.A.M.

It all begins at the standard dream-spot, my parent’s place. But today is no ordinary day. I am posing for a picture, with…Nicki fucking Minaj. Once the picture is taken, I walk out of the house, into a crowded street in the middle of a fictional town. Minaj comes up to me and grabs my hand, while she ducks her head down to avoid being recognized. We walk together towards the car when I notice that there’s shit loads of dodgy looking guys around, all staring at her. She looks up and FREAKS.

Then, I’m in a shopping mall (again?!), mit mein bruder and a random person who looks so damn familiar. We walk into a little clothing shop, and I pick up some Cloud Kicker tees (seriously check these out, so damn good). I hear screaming coming from the mall. We walk out of the shop to see what’s up, only to look up and see a fuck-off-massive beast tearing its way through the mall. Seriously, this thing is like Godzilla, on steroids, with tentacles. I drop the tees and run-Forest-run. Suddenly, the beast is gone…and I bump into an old friend, who has a shaved head, and is now apparently mates with someone he’s never met in real life.

The final chapter is nothing but epic. I’m driving the Corsa, with G riding shotgun. We park up in the woods somewhere, and meet up with the stoner crew, doin’ what they do best. They’re planning to go for a drive, so they walk off towards their ride and disappear into the darkness. We follow them and end up standing around a car, with a shit-load of people watching some fireworks in the distance. They all turn to look at me, and I realise I don’t know these people. I run.

We walk back into the woods, and find the stoners, must be 9 of them, piled into a Rover with smoke pouring from the windows. I dive into the car through an open window, and we set off. As the car pulls away, I notice there are burnt out cars everywhere to be seen, and my car has now disappeared… I panic, but quickly get told to chill. As we drive down the motorway, the sun comes up. At this point, the road cuts through some mountains, and the tarmac turns to some kind of sludgy-shitty substance. The car struggles to make it through, and eventually gets stuck.

Now here’s some crazy shit. The car turns into a huge piece of cloth, which we are all now sitting on… The road is now no longer a road, but a river. So now there’s 10 people floating down a river on a piece of fucking cloth. To make it even better, one of the stoners starts rapping Jay Electronica lyrics! As we float downstream, huge buildings appear, and we eventually float up to a hotel, with a swimming pool at the back. I look at the pool, and consider jumping in. Then the most unbelievable thing of the night happens. I wake up.

Pulled Apart By Horses

I’m at my Uncle’s place, walking through the house into the kitchen. My Aunt mutters something and buggers off, so I go to the sink to grab some water. I look out of the window into the garden, and see one of the single greatest things a man could ever see. A horse, in a fucking tree.

The horse is just standing on a thick branch of a tree. A fucking horse! I call my Aunt and cousin over. They run to the window, and their jaw’s drop in awe. Then it gets even better…

The horse leaps from the branch, towards the garden. It’s tail gets caught in a rope (which is dangling from the tree), leaving the horse hanging by it’s tail above the garden! AMAZING. Fuck I wish stuff like this happened in reality. My garden is shit.

Road to Zion

I’m looking at my ticket that’s just arrived in the post. Nas and Damian Marley. Wembley Arena. BOOM. Problem is, nobody else wants to go, so I decide I’m gonna sell it. I leave the house to meet up mit mein bruder, and my cousin Ron. Were in some kind of shopping mall, chillin’. I spot my mate O, and notice he’s watching some acoustic band perform.

I look at the band. It’s Mcfly.

Not only is it fucking Mcfly, but they’re performing whilst sitting in a massive shopping trolley! For some reason, that reminds me that I have to sell my ticket. I start to panic, madly in need of an internet cafe. All of a sudden, I’m sitting on my skateboard, racing the other two down a massive hill through the middle of a busy town. I get some mad air off a jump in the road, and fly straight over the head of some guy who is sitting having a pint outside a pub. He fucking loves that shit.

Next I’m walk into a seminar with my mates Q and C. We sit down near the back, and I whip out my ticket to show Q. He starts laughing. I look over at the ticket, and somehow it is now a ticket to see Giggs. LOOK WHAT THE CAT DRAGGED IN.

The Floor has Rabies

I’m sliding on my arse down the middle of an icy road, when suddenly the surroundings change and I’m then skidding purposely along a foamy shop floor with my mate H. No clue why its foamy, but my god its foamy.

Then I’m in a barbers, the coolest barbers in town, where they have Sky Sports News always blazin’ in the corner, and everyone having their hair cut talks to each other as if they’ve been best mates for years. I wait for fucking ages in the corner of the room, and then wait some more. Eventually, I’m up, only to realise I don’t actually want a haircut. I argue with the barber, who proceeds to not-give-a-shit about anything I’m saying. The cunt then starts shaving the back and sides. Never going there again.

Colonel Gaddafi slashed my palms!

Starts off in some kind of department store, like Debenhams, but worse. I’m with my cousin, and we’re looking for a friend named O. We find him. Suddenly I’m in a house that’s really familiar, which is ONCE AGAIN filled with members of my stupidly extended family (fuck I must really love them). For some reason, from just chillin’ in the house, I am now being chased by a group of people, who are so vivid that I can’t even resemble a single detail about them.

Then the dream tables turn. I am now chasing a little shit who looks so fucking familiar, but I can’t make out who it is. He runs out the back door of the house, onto a kind of NY-style metal fire escape platform, with a long set of stairs to the ground. Dripping in swag, he vaults over the ledge of the platform and drops about 20ft, landing into a perfectly placed skip full of liquid. I run down the stairs like a little pussy and continue the chase, only to somehow pass a bathroom and find O hiding in a shower behind a curtain. I hide with him in the room, but quickly get spotted. Someone grabs my hands from under the curtain and slashes them with a fuck-off-massive knife! With bloody palms, I get dragged out by a guy who looks like Colonel Gaddafi. We now appear to be on a busy high street in some kind of Middle Eastern country.

He takes O and I to his wife, who tells us that we’re going to be executed. I argue, she walks away. Slag. Then suddenly we are both in my 41-year-old cousin’s BMW, being driven through some mountains at night, confused as to which side of the roadwe should be on.

How Awesome is YOUR Puma Collection?

It starts off in the familiar scenario of the mountains, where I’m on my snowboard, shredding fresh powder left, right and centre. The actual snowboarding was scarily realistic, in the fact that I tried a couple of crappy little jumps with varying success, and then suddenly decided I was ready for the big time, attempting a 360 off a hench kicker. Thankfully I pulled it off (dream win).

Next thing you know, I’m walking around a really crowded area at night, holding a surf board. The place seems really familiar, kind of looks like my student union building. I walk round the back of the union, and there’s a rugby game on, being watched by dozens. Its Ireland vs Russia… I watch for a while then go inside the building where I have a drink with the strangest collection of people, some who have never met each other, and some who I haven’t seen for years. Suddenly, someone who is with us (who I recognize, but don’t know) whips out a can of spray paint and starts spraying a cupboard red. We get kicked out, and I get a life ban. Gutted.

Next, I’m back at the usual place, my parents house. Again, as per usual, loads of family members are over for dinner. I’m with my brother, discussing how awesome my 6-year-old cousin’s collection of Puma trainers is. And my god, it was. I go downstairs and sit down to eat in a strange room of the house, which doesn’t actually exist. Stuck to the ceiling is a GIANT glass bowl. Seriously, this thing is like 5 metres long, and is stuck up there like some kind of decorative piece. I start laughing at it, whilst my mum tries to convince me it’s really stylish. Seriously, a bowl? Come on mum.

Damn It Feels Good To Be a Taylor

I’m on the American football field, for some reason. Probably something to do with my watching of the Superbowl, but more likely because Greg Jennings put the team on his back, doe (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1P0yfq2wDvU). As it gets dark outside, it becomes less clear what I’m actually doing on the pitch. I’m not even sure if there’s a ball involved. Just general running around on a pitch…

I walk off the field, and enter a cabin, which looks more like a house on the inside. My brother is there, and suddenly SO IS A SNAKE! A big fucking snake. My brother shits his little pants, whereas I (for some reason!) attempt to wrestle the snake! I grab it near the head quite successfully, as it squirms around trying to bend its neck backwards. As my hand begins to slip, its head spins round and it is then centimetres away from biting the living fuck out of my hand. I wake up in a sweat. Intense.

As I fall back to sleep, I re-enter the same scenario (yeah, that’s right, awesome dreaming ability), but the cabin is now snake-free, and is also now full of truly random people. Among the crowd is none other than Bobby Baccala, auf the Sopranos! Weirdly, he is holding one of those sticks they use to poke a football pitch and improve drainage. He says out loud “I gotta get back to work” (I imagine this is his pitch-poking duties..). Standing next to him is Rachel from Undeclared. What.the.fuck. Even more brilliant is the fact that I think she is his wife, as she then says “Yep, and I gotta get back into the kitchen”. She then exits the cabin-house, at which point one of the randoms nearby says under the skin of his teeth, “someone lock her in there”. I have never dream-laughed so hard. Classic.

The last thing I remember before waking, is my excitement over the news that Wiz Khalifa would be coming to Cardiff. TAYLOR GANG.