Night of 18th May 2010

We're watching television in the front room of the home I grew up in. Nana and I are sitting on the settee, Nana's mother is on the shorter settee perpendicular on our right. We all watch the screen.

It's not an out-and-out porno - more like a sex education film - but there are some graphic images of a female hand stroking a cock. It's a program Nana and me have set to watch; but Nana's Mum's reaction is not clear. There is silence as we watch. I'm anxious about what Nana's Mum is thinking of me.

The program mentions a purple condom, a thin one, and Nana nods in approval—as though to agree from experience: yes, they are the best. The condom is slipped over the penis; I think the female hand takes some pills.

We're in the 70s concrete hospital. Out of the window I see a car-park, with a concrete tower. Toward the tower a white haired man is being wheeled—and I'm excited as I realize it's "Jim'll fix it." I turn to the other person, perhaps Nana, to explain that Jim'll fix it is here.

Another saviour appears inside the hospital, though who is was is lost on me in waking. Nana's mother acts reassured, but I sense she is still politely doubting. I wake.