Night of 3rd November 2009

I'm outside, it's dusk, and I'm hiding. I seem to be loitering around the carpark of an expensive apartment complex, trying to keep from view. The garbage is outside the apartment - arranged as it is in Japan for pick up by the removal men (it is not typical refuse but the larger things that can not be taken by the dump truck). I notice my printer, from waking life, in the stack. Although I'm not sure if it is mine, it could be Stephen Fry's. I'm worried about this doubt of ownership and try to get nearer the printer. As I'm right on it, I'm found out and it seems to be Stephen Fry who has seen me. He stands near the printer, but is not angry - the printer is mine. The printer is working, the light is on. I look at the photos that are in the exit tray: I can't remember them now, but one may have been a solid sky blue, and the other was a person, with a yellow amber background, but I don't remember the person. I do remember the quality of the print was bad and Stephen Fry, or me, may have commented on it. The expensive sedan, like a bentley, comes out of the parking garage past us at the printer, and I steal into the boot of the car to escape (still having to hide).
The scene changes (though this is still the same story) it's still dusk, and I'm looking onto a spacey open air terrace. The terrace is stepped, layered - with mezzanines and patios, lots of fauna around, it is very impressive, like the gardens of babylon or an aztec architecture. I'm looking down on it from the highest level, and I see my grey sofa, from waking life, in fact many of them, the same model, littered all around, on all the levels of, the terrace, flush up against the walls. Looking at one of the square cushions (there are no such cushions on the real sofa) I'm a little concerned about the sofa being left outside, and my initial awe of the patio, and impression of relaxation from the sofas is dampened by the thought that they are left out in the elements and may not be so inviting after all. I'm suddenly aware that this is NaS's (the rapper's) house. I make my way down the levels.
I find a little flow of water in the lower level, similar in size and current to one of those flows in a water-park (water amusement park). I think I must still be trying to get somewhere, or elude something, or hide from something because I get in the flow - knowing it will take me on, and somehow knowing in advance where it's going.
The flow speeds up, and I'm heading for the waterfall. I pass through a very small (only just big enough to get through curled up) arched stone gateway over the lip of the waterfall. This gateway is brown and rough, un-fashioned, but the surrounding wall around the arch is cream color and seems more uniform or fashioned - this huge wall separates the patio section from the drop of waterfall on the other side. The waterfall side is cavernous or enclosed; as opposed the the open air terrace. I haven't gone over the edge with the water, I seem to be waiting at the lip, unperturbed by the strong current. Perhaps, in hindsight, this is where I knew the patio was NaS's house...
I make the decision to go over; it seems as though I've done this jump before, because the drop is suddenly much much larger than I knew it to be - it has become a drop of 5 or 6 stories, or many more. I realize a few seconds into the fall that I'm going to die if I hit the ground - the pool at the bottom is too shallow (I can see the bottom of it, it's like a water fountain bed). The scenery during the fall reminds me (now that I write it) of a Jackie Chan stunt in one of his films where he jumps between stories in a shopping mall; or like a similar stunt in the film Commando where Schwarzenegger swings on a mall decoration and onto elevators in a shopping mall. The scenery on this side of the waterfall is still quite aztec, but writing the previous sentence, I think it could have been a shopping mall - I was falling from the top level of a shopping mall toward the bottom. The surfaces were made of the small laminate bricks shopping malls often use, and the greenery dotted about was very shopping mall-esque. I'm falling and I know I'm finished. At this moment I notice an octagonal structure, only big enough for one person to stand in/on, floating, or situated at any rate, well below me but well above the ground (where I will die upon impact). The octagon is made of the same design, laminate bricks (sand or tan color as all the others). It is not directly below me however, to survive this fall I must get to it. As I fall, skydiver style, it is infront and below me - I must get forward in time in order to land on it, or at least to get a hand on it. My fall speed is increasing quickly. I swim with my arms and make progress getting forward as I fall. I think I'm going to make it. My fall speed is so fast now I'm aware that I might not be able to grab the octagonal platform; that the collision will be so violent I'll just break my arms grasping for the octagon. But I must try, the alternative is death. I'm swimming through the air, it's getting closer, it's within reach - I brace for a huge impact on my arms, prepare to try and hold on, at least break my velocity a little so that if I can't hold on the rest of the fall may not kill me. Impact! The collision is violent but I feel no pain, and getting a hold on the edge of the platform was not as hard as I thought it should be. I instantly, desperately, try haul my self onto the octagon. This too is suprisingly easy - I can't haul my body weight up by the power of my arms alone in real life (pull-ups) and so am suprised I can here. There are two burnished steel pipes in the middle of the octagon; they are upside down "u" shapes, but square "u"s, with short curves joining the perpendicular sections of the "u"s. They are like the bars on swimming pool steps - except their shape is, as said, different. They are flush in the center of the octagon and I'm glad I didn't get perfectly over it as they would have broken my back if I'd landed on them. I'm hauling myself onto the octagon and grab these bars, it's as if they were intended to aid people hanging on to the octagon for dear life.
Paradoxically (because it was so easy to grab the octagon and haul myself), I can't get my whole body up onto the octagon, no matter how hard I try. I get my arms well around the pipes and my upper body is well up onto the platform too. My legs dangle over the edge. But I'm relieved to have saved myself and am thankful for, satisfied with, this result. I see a shot, from directly above, of myself half hauled onto the octagon - my arms are making two v shapes as I'm slumped, head resting left, on the platform. The snap-shot looks like someone who'd just saved themselves from drowning, recuperating/relieved. I wake.