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.