I am supposed to be flying to the moon in the prototype of a new spacecraft. I insist that I am too fat to get through the door, then discover that this is not the case. The two other astronauts are Gerry Rafferty and “Gerry Rathbone”, who seems actually to be Sammy Davis, Jr. — they seem to have been chosen because they both at one time were part of a double act with George Burns. The spacecraft barely manages to leave the atmosphere before coming back down, but lands safely. The spacecraft is then put on display inside Glasgow School of Art — somehow it’s only about a foot across and displayed on a small plinth. I decide to sign the spacecraft with the name of a Scottish woman artist, who I later hear objects strongly to this. I overhear a telephone conversation which reveals that the artist is actually the pseudonym of a Japanese man who works as a hospital porter — I start contributing works to the pseudonymous oeuvre. I remember trying to figure out how to post writing anonymously on the web — I set up a website and am surprised to discover an elaborate stylesheet already in place which formats the work I post there in ways I can’t predict. The last thing I remember, which might be a completely different dream, is a female performance artist with incredibly beautiful breasts, running topless across a playing field with her brother who looks like Gary: Tank Commander. Then there’s a video interview with the performance artist, who is lying down wearing a tank top. She talks about something that she’s basically given up, but still relapses into doing fourteen times a year. The interviewer asks her to demonstrate her two singing voices — the high falsetto one, and her regular voice. The dream ends before she does so.