Night of 4th June 2010

It starts very high in the sky. I'm tracking some fighter pilots—it seems a rookie is in training, he has a modern fighter, and his mission is to hunt two other bogies, flown by his experienced instructors. The bogies are MIGs: a black one and a white one. I see the black one bank away and I'm tracking the white one.

It's descending but the design is not a MIG; it looks quite space-age, in a 70s way—the way a Lotus Esprit looks space age in a 70s way. The MIG is doing barrel rolls as it descends, however the rolls of the plane are quite unique: sometimes the body rolls in its entirety (the pilot rolls with the body), an orthodox sight; other times only the wings and forward body roll—the pilot, the cockpit, does not roll. The wings and forward chassis rolling while the cockpit does not seems like a nut spinning round a bolt. The MIG bombs down through the air.

It passes a huge balloon - some kind of altitude marker - and the pilot has to eject. He is still the experienced, senior, instructor, and I sense he is exactly Tom Skerritt (the "Top Gun" instructor from the synonymous film). He's parachuted out and is falling down to the ocean. Skerritt plunges into the water and sinks deep down.

My perspective is now first person. As the waters darken and deepen, I see two divers waiting for me with outstretched arms. They take hold of me and fix some breathing equipment over my mouth—not diving equipment, but the medical muzzles hospitals use when administering gaseous anaesthetic. I'm pulled into the undersea base.

We're in what is my house though it's unknown to me, I guess it must be the new house that Nana and I are currently searching for in waking life. It's a smallish, few bedroomed family house. My parents are visiting.

All the pets are wreaking havoc. I think a small kitten has first caused some chaos, and I'm embarrassed as it leaves a bad impression. Soon a chimpanzee like monkey has appeared from upstairs. I didn't know we had a monkey, but as it appears I know its name and it is familiar to me. It begins to get out of control, and my parents have to step in and care for it—what should be my job as it's my pet. My parents are very understanding and don't criticize me for not being able to handle having a chimpanzee, even though I was the one who took it on. I'm conscious of that and try to take-over. I'm not very successful, the monkey writhes about and is generally very restless. It escapes, and we're all calling its name.

I, or my parents, begin to think that domesticating a wild chimpanzee was silly, and it'd be best to loose the chimpanzee from the house and our care. My father takes control, and with my mother they take the chimpanzee away—presumably to loose it, perhaps to dump it.

I wake.