I think that if I put up a fringed brocade canopy over my bed and candles (lit) all around the room, then lay down to listen to Florence and the Machine and read Scarlett Thomas books it would be like that time that Grant Morrison summoned the spirit of John Lennon, only instead of John Lennon appearing and helping him to write a song I would secrete some sort of goo which would harden to a coccoon, eventually opening to reveal a 2D JRPG-style Goddess Form Claire.
I would have anemonies in ugly-fine vases, Japanese (Anemone hupehensis var. japonica) and Poppy (Anemone coronaria). And other flowers that my mum describes as “funereal”. My hair would be large but lie lightly.