Was this just a dream?

I reached out for the first angel. Desdemona. Blood had started to dribble from tiny punctures in her skin. She had my fingers in her mouth and she was licking at them. Then she bit down on one of them, hard, so that the skin broke, and she was licking at the blood. "You ever gonna find me, Scribble?" she said. I had no good answers to give my sister except to reach out to embrace her. We fell into a kiss -

"Scribble! Get that fucking feather out of there!"

That was the Beetle's voice, coming into the dream. And somebody forcing my mouth open.

"You know I don't allow that. No one goes in alone!"

My eyes opened. Forced open. Beetle's eyes staring down at me, from close range. His hands messing about inside my mouth, like a fucking dentist. "Stop biting on it!" he said. Biting on what? He reached deep inside my mouth, pulling on something soft and fluttering that had lodged there. "Gotcha!" announced the Beetle, pulling a blue feather from deep down inside of my throat. He held it aloft like a treasure, whilst I retched and convulsed, gasping for new breath.

"Sorry," I gasped out "I was dreaming... dreaming..."

"You weren't dreaming, saddo!" said the Beetle. "You were going in alone. Nobody does that."

"Sorry, Bee... I..."

"Fuck off. Fuck off and die if you want to. Just don't do it on the premises."

I looked at the blue feather he'd pulled out of my mouth. "What was I doing?"

"Blue Lullaby. You know that's only for babies."

I breathed.

I breathed again.

GAME CAT

BLUE LULLABY is for when life gets bad. When life deals a stupid hand. If you should ever find your give-a-fuck factor has gone down to zero, this is the feather for you. Blue Lullaby will wrap you up in blankets and cuddles, making the bad things seem, well you know, kind of good all of a sudden. It's sweet. But a little warning from the Cat. It works up to a point, and it's not much of a point. It can cure the tiny troubles; it fucks out on the big troubles, just makes them worse. For those who need something stronger may I recommend TAPEWORMER. Except that the Cat doesn't like these let's-make-everything-sweet feathers. Life is to be lived, not to be dreamt about. But when life needs a gentle hand, Lullaby could be the one. It's a cradlesong. The Cat says -- use the Lullaby, don't abuse the Lullaby. It could turn nasty on you.

Status: a lovely sky-blue legal, with warnings.

IT FELT SO GOOD

I was shaking from the journey, rivered with sweat, tears just adding to the body's liquid content. I didn't know which was sweat, which was tears. That bad. The Beetle was holding my hand. It felt so good. It felt so good, that soft hand, amidst all the wanderings. Karli the robodog was lying at my feet.

"You okay, Scribb?" the Beetle asked, voice all quiet and yearning, like spring flowers, that kind of thing. Most unusual. "You shouldn't go in alone, Scribb. How many times have I told you? You need the Beetle in there. Isn't that the truth?"

"I was just trying..."

"What's that, Scribb?"

"I was just trying..." I said, exhuming the words. "I was just trying... I was just trying to find some comfort..."

Beetle holding me tight against his frock-coat, and I could feel his collection of biker badges biting into my wet cheek. "You poor fucker!" he said to me. "Brid's gone. Van's gone. Des has gone." He was waving the now creamed-up feather in front of my face. "And you think this is gonna bring them back? Huh?"

His voice was hard again, but still with that trace of sadness. Never heard that before. Rain was falling, Manchester rain; we listened to its soft drumbeats against the window. Beetle's eyes were full of the rain, and some drops of it fell down his cheeks, like tears. Except that all the windows were closed, so how could the rain get in? Even the window that never closed was stuffed with an old T-shirt, so how come the rain was rolling down his cheeks like that? Maybe it was tears? Maybe it was tears! Maybe the Beetle had found tears? And that felt good. It felt so good.

Bring me my van of burning desire. How I missed that chariot. And all who ride in her. The Beetle had stolen a cheap car, just to get us home, but it was a pale substitute. The van was a good friend. Now gone. The robodog was licking at my trainers. "What's the dog doing here?" I asked.

"Suze gave the dog to you. Don't you remember?"

"Where's Mandy?" I asked, suddenly missing her.

"She went out. I think we had an argument."

I reached into my shirt pocket for a Napalm fag. And pulled out a pasteboard card. This is your card, said Suze. How did it get there? Suze must have done a sly pass, whilst I was herb-sleeping. I took a long look at the picture. A young man heading for a drop, hounded by a dog. Real-life model. Collector's item. "Do you forgive me, Beetle?" I asked, quiet-like, whilst looking at the card.

The flower clock shed a petal; it floated in a zigzag pattern, driven by sighs, down to the carpet.

"I do."

That voice.

That voice of the Beetle.

Saying that.

Saying I do. I do forgive you. That meant so much. That meant everything. I forgive you for the weakness. I forgive you for the transgression. For doing Blue Lullaby. For going in alone. For trying to find the things that we've lost.

Never heard such words before, not from the Beetle.

"Where are the Thing and Brid?" I asked.

"I don't know. It's getting bad."

The Beetle, saying that, with such an ache to his voice. I was getting a new picture of the main guy. He was a man without dreams. He dreamt other people's dreams, through the feathers. That was the Beetle's obsession; he had nothing else. I realised that my eyes had closed.

When I opened them, Beetle was close. He took my body in his hands, wrapping me in his black frock-coat. It felt so good. Like a family, I guess.

I brought the card up close to my face. The young man was walking towards an abyss, a rucksack on his shoulder, the yapping dog pestering his heels. Along the top edge the number zero. Along the bottom the words The Fool. What did Suze mean by this? Karli Dog snuffling around at my feet.

"What now, Beetle?" I asked, not knowing where to go.

"I don't know, Scribble. I just don't know."

The flat door opened with a soft breath, and Mandy stepped into the room. Her face was flushed with pleasure.

"Where have you been?" asked the Beetle.

"I've found Icarus Wing," she said.

SNAKE SCISSORS I was coming in the lips of Venus. She had green hair all around her milky white face, eyes so bright I was nearly blinded, and it was like shooting stars into the mouth of a goddess. And where the semen landed, against the cloth of night, the planets and the stars were formed there. I was making planets with my cock, coming on like God on heat. Took six nights to come the whole universe. On the seventh night I rested. With a giant spliff, some wine, and a Screaming Headache album. And a packet of biscuits. Arrowroot biscuits.

Felt like sitting inside somebody's head.

Which it was.

The final credits rolled. YOU HAVE BEEN DREAMING GODHEAD. STARRING CINDERS O'JUNIPER AND TOM JASMINE.

Over this they were playing the national anthem. This is the land that I love, and here I'll stay.

BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE CHIMERA CORPORATION. DIRECTED BY MAEVE BLUNT. PRODUCED BY HERCULES SMITH.

Me and the Beetle, Mandy between us, were sitting on the back row, surrounded by snogging couples, triples, multiples. A splattering of loners, in love with fingers. Karli the robobitch was lying on the floor between my legs.

SCRIPT BY BYRON SHANKS. LIGHTING BY JULES BULB.

People were getting up to leave the shimmy, pulling the pink feathers out of their mouths, dropping them on the parquet. Some were furtive in the leaving, others were full of boisterous laughter. Some were kissing.