I went to some lecture which was supposed to be given by Susan Sontag. When we got there it was someone else. I'd brought presents for Susan Sontag in the shape of iced buns, (my favourite) and some other vaguely familiar cakes and I was hoping something would go wrong so I would get to eat them. I could hear people wandering around saying ersatz Sontag was being really difficult during the questions and answers. All I was worried about were the buns. Twice I got them out of my bag and then put them back and then started to eat them, they were delicious. I can still taste them now. As the lecture went on two men in the audience starting talking about something called Menstrual Marxism with a bit of Heidegger chucked in for good measure. I started to feel a bit crestfallen so I went and stood on a very high shelf above everyone. It was so high that I had to check that I hadn't grown into a giant. By now you can guess this was a dream, all in my head. The top billing was really miffed with me for some reason, and even went out of her way to ask if I was alright, 'up there'. This drew unwanted attention to me which pissed her off even further. I went to the bar and realised Top Billing as she was now known, was standing near me. Boy she moved fast, so I told her I thought she was a silly cow which is pretty tame for me as in real life I would have told her to fuck off. I remember I was wearing a green t-shirt and one of Top Billing's friends came over and put a flower pot on my head and tried to suggest that I looked like one of the Flower Pot Men on account of the green t-shirt. I thought this was a lame attempt at humiliation and kept looking in a fairground mirror saying to myself, 'well I think I look alright'. If anything it reminded me of Devo.  The pair of them followed me around and said they were going to report me for swearing. I felt worried so knowing this was just a dream I remembered that I could be anywhere I wanted and had no obligation to hang around in what was becoming suspiciously like someone else's nightmare. I chose Richmond Bridge in the late 19th century, dining in the middle of the bridge with a good looking younger man with the sunshine making everything seem heavenly and shimmering. I felt a pang of loss as I realised I wasn't with Mr van de Ven and desperately wanted to find him. There were no phones and the feeling of loss went to panic as I became aware I might find myself dead in another century.......