No, this isn't a peanut gallery where you can gloat over my depression; I'm not depressed at all. I'm just going to describe some of the weird dreams I've had lately.

I don't believe in Hell, but it is a theme that has appeared in my dreams many times.

Firstly:

I was in a huge, circular industrial-looking pit (with gears and levers and all sorts on the walls), on a narrow walkway that ran around the wall of this pit, overlooking a lower chamber. I fell into the lower chamber and found myself immersed in ice-cold water. The chamber was about 100ft by 50ft, and about 20ft tall, not including the water, which could have been of any depth.

The water was full of people and they were all struggling to climb onto slippery blocks of ice, of which the water was also full.

And at the centre of it all was a massive, armoured Devonian fish; snapping at us and driving us onto the ice. (Dunkleosteus - I just wiki'd it)

Second:

Last night I dreamed I was in Regent's Park, on the outer circle near, Baker street. I was with my mother and my brother, and we were searching the skyline for the BT tower.

In its place was the most beautiful tower I have ever seen, in dreams or reality.

It was many thousands of feet tall, and composed entirely of pure white marble of such radiance that it cast no shadow.

Upon its summit was carved a Assyrian-style bearded head. Beneath that, there was a black marble clock with golden minute markers and hands, like some colossal fancy watch.

And around the base of the tower, facing outwards, sat three huge Assyrian winged lions (rather like those in the British museum.)

They were so truly massive that their paws alone towered over the treetops...

I gazed up at the tower and said "This must be the tower of Heaven". My brother immediately retorted, for no real reason other than argument's own sake, although I knew in my dream that he was correct, "No, it's the tower of Hell."

We were ushered into a fenced-off area in the middle of one of the playing fields, cordoned off by rope. We were each made to kneel in our own dusty square of earth, upright, with our hands behind our heads, as though awaiting execution; all the time we gazed up at the scintillating tower.

There were at least six of us there; me, my mother, and four strangers. Two people, a man and a woman in gypsy dress, were our overseers.

Nearby were two llamas, fenced in their own pens.

Bored, and pissed off with the turn of events, my mother picked up a clod of straw-filled dirt and went to feed the llamas.

The man advanced on her, threatening her with a whip.

I protested, "Look at her (my mother's) innocence and wonder, going to feed the llamas as a child would."

My mother glared at me and said "Are you calling me childish?"

The gypsy dressed woman turned towards me and said "This is how we create our own hell. Whatever you say or do here will turn on you."

Third:

I was in a waiting room, awaiting assignment to a level of Hell.

It was a plain room, rather like a dentist's, and there was a machine that dispensed those little triangular tickets that waiting rooms so often have; this one dispensed tickets with the number of the level of Hell we were to be sent to.

Mine was "7", which I knew from memory was home to the forest of suicides. About right, I thought to myself.

Nny from JtHM was there.

He looked at my ticket and said, "Oh, me too!"

***

While mulling all this over, I invented a new word: Capafappuccino

It is what you get if you wank into your coffee while watching the movie "Sunshine" and fantasizing over Cillian Murphy.