To begin at the beginning deep in rural France I came across piles and piles of linen sheets which had beautiful textures. When I closely looked at the linen sheets there was a sense of life in the fabrics. As I randomly ran my hand over each linen sheet I felt a unique individual character in the fabrication of the weave. No linen sheets were the same, each had its own personal grain and mark. I began to realise that people during the night slept on these linen sheets and glided into their dreams deep into the black night. Come draw your ear closer to the yarn of the linen sheets and you can hear the dreams. One metre along the fibres and a peepshow, two metres he gives birth to a sqealing piglet, three she dreams of being Ben Hur, four and five he is still alive, six he sleeps with a beaming erection, seven dreaming of being a giving God, eight he eats snakes out of his plate, milking cows in a coal mine, nine and ten, miles of endless white material. I woke up from my own dream to face a reality that I bought the stockpile of linen sheets. New York 2003 I met up with Kate Aronsson, who lives in Brooklyn. Our meeting was brief but fruitful. I began by showing her a few examples of linen sheets and old worn out leather army strappings that I had cut from my vintage rack sack. With my ideas I wanted Kate to sew the clothes I envisaged through these linen sheets of dreams, the philosophy was that each sheet contained years and years of dreams and nightmares of an unknown nature. When the garment was completed one would be enveloped in a spiritual and mental texture. Each garment would be a unique one of a kind caressing your skin. The linen sheet would bear a kindness to one’s skin due to the