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Cheese Dreams

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So here’s the thing:

How much does it cost to get oneself lobotomised?

I rarely ever remember my dreams but since my last update where I related a cool, if a bit strange, vivid dream I remembered from Thursday night, I had equally vivid and memorable dreams on Friday and Saturday night. I put it down to my special six-cheese pasta sauce that used up the remnants of the Christmas Cheese, but when the following dreams are added to the fact that the tune going round my head this morning is “We wish you a wombling merry Christmas” I start to fear for my precious dregs of sanity and the safety of those around me.

Friday: Firstly, in my dream I am standing at the waterfront in the harbour of Alexandria (northern Egypt), not far from the location of the once-famous Pharos. It is high summer and slightly stifling, despite my cotton trousers and panama hat. I lift up my digital SLR camera and… begin photographing the icebergs beneath their brooding storm clouds.


Then there’s a bit of a fluffy blank area (presumably while my brain cavorts around inside my skull trying to break loose from the chains of sanity while mad mind-gnomes whisper things to it).

Then suddenly I’m in a massive carpark in the middle of a monstrous gunfight. People are having their stomachs blown out and all sorts, and in the middle of this carnage, I’m choreographing the violence. I stop a guy who’s just cut someone in half with a sawn off 12 gauge and tell him that’s not the best way. I take the gun and start to show him how to roll-and-fire, roll-and-fire.

Now tell me that’s not odd!

But then in Saturday night’s dream, I’m on about the eighth floor of an old tall, narrow building with a winding old staircase, in an office, gazing out across the storms, watching them with interest.

One particular storm thrashes away on the hill crest opposite. This is the storm that little baby squalls hope to grow up to be. A massive tornado whips around in the centre, and the sky around it is greyer than a conservative party political broadcast, punctuated by sharp and dazzling flashes of lightning.

And then it changes direction and tears at about 70mph towards this office tower. I dive away from the window and roll across the floor. The surprise this produces on the faces of the office workers quickly becomes terror as the window explodes inwards in a cloud of glass shards and a surprised looking cow enters at about 40 mph, bounces across a desk and then, righting itself, runs in a panic down the stairs.

I give chase and suddenly, as I catch it, it’s not a cow anymore, but my next door neighbour’s pet spaniel. Flash forward to where I’m visiting my next door neighbours, who are distraught, and giving them back their pet to tears of relief and joy.


I have a future as a storm-chasing, pet-rescuing, desert-bound-iceberg-photographing gunfight-choreographer.

Let me know if anyone sees anything in the small ads advertising the position, will you?

Moosey (now off the cheese for a few days…)


Written by SJAT

January 11, 2011 at 4:22 pm

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