As usual on a Sunday evening, my head was buzzing with the thought of twisting and turning a sorry tale into something worthy of tragi-comedy. I woke up what felt like five minutes later with the vague remnants of a dream reforming in my head. It involved a Catholic Priest, my least favourite knickers, a parked car and a therapist. Dreams are fantastic aren’t they? I mean I’m not sure that I would have mixed that particular group of ingredients together in a waking state, but I just wonder what I am preoccupied with. I can’t piece all of this one together.
I also had a vivid dream last week which invloved me being part of a gang that was robbing a grocery. There were lots of us doing the robbing, and lots of tills hidden behind the piles of fruit and veg. We filled our white bags with the hordes of cash – mostly coins I seem to recall. We piled into a white transit van with our booty and then somehow I ended up behind the wheel. Bit of a problem as I haven’t ever quite managed to pass my driving test. Well I never took it, so I don’t know if I would have not passed it. Anyway... I’m careering around the streets of a very sunny sort of lego town – it wasn’t made of Lego, but it was fairly nondescript, you know those towns built in that yellow brick with no personality whatsoever. Suddenly the van turned into a bigger van and then a double decker bus. Just as I was about to crash into a post office – I knew it was a post office as there was at least twenty postmen on a ciggie break outside watching me slightly perturbed that I may career into them. And then the bus stopped. By now only one of my accomplices were left and he suggested that we casually walk away. Which we did. Very casually. Hand in hand, but now the bus had turned into a big plastic toy bus that I had to wheel in front of me. Couldn’t work that one out either.
I’ve also had a lot of boat dreams recently. It’s always dusk and the boat is usually moored and I usually end up committing acts of violence towards the end of the dream. Not really violent, one was just a slap, another a rather vicious swipe with a cushion, but my favourite was the slamming of the head between the kitchen cabinet and its door; over and over and over again.