Lost without you porANDREY AVKHIMOVICHen Jamendo.

Drained by the muggy weather, with its suet-coloured sky and ominous broth of storm-to-come on the point of over-boiling, I lay down upon the sofa and fell asleep.

Dreamlets floated by like islands seen opaquely through drenching mist. I slept on…

…and then, with terrifying suddenness, I was awake – or so I thought – seated in a very rustic toilet. The walls were white-painted stone, though dusky with dirt – and I could tell, though I could not begin to say how, that this lavatorial setting was not in the UK.

I became aware that there was a presence behind me and strange spots of yellow light kept popping in and out of sight, creating shadows and a weird warmth on the back of my head.

The warmth seemed to get closer, became uncomfortable; the gold spots increased in tempo, the gaps between them ever-narrower. The identity of the…