I’ve been having a great time lately meeting famous people in my dreams…but there seems to be a theme. Namely the Rocky Horror Show.

I dreamed the script and plot of a very scary horror film - something to do with art, a serial killer and lots of gore - and when it finished I decided to complain about it at my local library(?). I took my cat in a baby basket to suggest that I am a responsible dutiful mother but he wouldn’t lie still and so wasn’t a convincing baby. Having asked to see the film schedule I was handed a timetable by Richard O’Brien. And fortunately for him the film was no longer showing! But I still told him it was a scary film and I don’t want it screened again. I wish I could remember it - I’d make a fortune!

The next cameo appearance was actually me! Starring as Magenta - not in the RHS but in ‘a night out on the town’ - misbehaving but thoroughly enjoying myself. I did have to pout a lot, wear a tight top, shockingly high heels and got through a lot of red lipstick but it was great.

My friend Caz’s boyfriend shared a ‘cameo dream’ he had - upon discovering his house was haunted by a poltergeist he decided to learn an exorcism spell, having performed it the poltergeist appeared as a small white light and warned him not to go through with the full rite, but the spell was finished and the poltergeist became…Rutger Hauer…cool.

 

 

I have the ability to dream as though watching something - I don’t have to actually be a part of what I dream. Case in point is last nights dream.

I remember I was watching a black and white documentary style film on life at the turn of the 20th century. A poor woman and her husband were featured in their yard and while she tried to clean out a pan which she also used to try and shovel away the hige pile of soil and debris that encroached on her yard, her husband sat smoking a pipe. She talked to the camera about what she was trying to do and how she did things while he grunted agreement. I felt amazed at the way they were talking - I thought it very modern, I wish I could remember dream conversations. Sometimes in a dream I’ll sing songs I’ve created which are totally forgotten in the morning. I love the expression ‘that just broke my dream’ - you don’t break a dream - that happens when your alarm clock goes off - recollecting a dream is  like remembering snippets of your drunken behaviour the morning after the night before.

No one else has blogged about it, even thought i’ve been raving on about it so I will.

A friend bought me a DELIGHTFUL toy from America - its an image of the Holy Mother to punch into my bread to toast. Following the infamous Jesus-in-a-tortilla and Mary-in-cheese-on-toast I have always been on the look out for my own personal vision - although i don’t lie on the floor waiting for Jesus to appear in my carpet pattern like SOME PEOPLE do.

And having found it I would NEVER sell it on ebay - I’d share it with you dear blessed readers.

You can see the ‘holy bread puncher’ here:

http://www.zeigermann.com/cartoonist/images/2006/05/01/toast.jpg

 This topic makes for an amusng search - I found a turtle with a Virgin Mary imge on his shell. Cool

Well over the past week  I’ve been rewarded with some great dreams, but I was very naughty and didn’t note them down so I can only remember snippets, although, now that I blog about them, my dream memory has improved. The dream that broke the block was very bizarre.

I was walking uphill past houses, I can see the road clearly, I stopped by a house with a tree in the garden, the neighbours were talking to me. Then I was in a house, trying to climb a spiral staircase. I had my hands full and because I couldn’t hold the banister I couldn’t climb the stairs. I often dream of climbing stairs and I always end up gripping on for dear life.My legs were like jelly and I was terrified. Cut to next scene. I was walking past shops and I had some wierd bloke with me who was coming out with me and a friend. I don’t know who he is but he was wierd and very immature, I know he annoyed me. We went into a shop which actually exists in Nottingham, The Bird Cage which sells vintage clothing, and I wanted to buy something, but a vintage scarf was £35. we had to leave because he was acting like an idiot. That was about the end of it.

I jsut remembered a dream I had before this blog was set up. I was on a hen weekend and staying in a house/ hostel which was very narrow but had floor upon floor. Every wall was draped with material and the staircases were hidden in swathes of material. It all felt really grubby and seedy and it was dark; I was worried people would go into my room. I’m totally hung up on privacy!

Now I remember another dream - I was with my mum and we were in a shop, when we came outside there was a huge parade with inflatables overhead and streamers and confetti - all for Christmas. It was so wonderful and fairy tale. Suddenly it went dark and my mum pointed out a shop that had been attacked by terrorists. It was a very nondescript house, really old, with windows broken and the whole thing was singed from fire. Suddenly there was a man in there turning on lights and tidying up so we went in and it wasn’t as bad as it looked from the outside. We looked through the nik naks, picking up jewellery and pottery. We forgot to pay for a piece of jewellery but my mum gave the cashier £50 more than the items registered on the till. The cashier was thrilled, thinking it a charitable gesture, but it felt hollow and wrong. I do have some morals in dream land, even if I carve up brains sometimes.

I remember in one dream I bought a packet of fags from a machine and it had everything a smoker would need; a lighter, cigarettes, cigarette holder (I’d be a glamorous smoker darling if I bothered), all in the one packet. I even lit one - but I don’t smoke in awake world.

So the dreamers block is gone and I promise to blog sooner so as not to forget all the fine gory details.

If I don’t know you, I probably think you suck. I’ll think that about you until we are introduced/talk and then I still might think that about you.

I’ve got evidence for this generalisation, people have pissed me off today.

 Number 1. Cyril’s Nut Hut in Long Eaton. Basically a dumping ground for people who can’t be arsed to entertain their own kids. And for dumb ass parents who can’t use the parking provided next to the hut for nutty kids and block up the road for the residents who have to live near to it listening to these idiots kids scream themselves into a frenzy in a ball pool. It would be entertaining to bring some truth to the name and let loose some squirrels in there…..

Number 2. Walkers of Ashbourne - dump trucks of said company. This week the rear passenger side window of a relative of mine’s car was broken, and shattered by something hitting it from a Walkers truck. Both my relative and driver of the truck stopped. The driver of the truck acknowledged that the netting holding the crap in had come loose and passed over their company’s details to my relative, who then called them. Clearly social responsibility and accountability is NOTHING Walkers of Ashbourne have ever heard of - they wouldn’t even listen to details of the incident. Their response was ‘you have no proof’ - excuse me but I’ve never heard of debris kicked up from the road smashing a rear side window esp to the point it shatters. And had there been children in the back this could have resulted in some especially nasty injuries. 
I’m so mad I can’t begin to write how I feel. Walkers of Ashbourne - you suck. 

 Thank God for blogs.

I’m very disappointed, maybe I’m putting too much presssure on my subconscious to come up with some amazing dreams. I’ve had no coherent lengthy dreams for two weeks now. But I do have snippets….

In one dream my boyfriends mum gave me a pickle. My boyfriend calls me pickle and he never eats the gerkin in big macs - I have it - so that may explain that one.

I dreamed I was at work and I fell asleep at my desk!!!How do you dream about sleeping???? Surely thats deep?

Last night - new depths of dream horror - I was carving up a human brain.

And despite no skills in this field in real life I was complemented on my slicing skills by a coroner.

The head turned into a forensic reconstruction of my own head.

Throughout all of this I was eating. I recall from real life that my brother, who did Forensic Science, told me that the smell of formaldehyde makes you hungry. Nice.

I want more dreams about Elmo.

I have a few dream pieces to share, no long elaborate stories but still bizarre.

Over the weekend I dreamed I was at my senior school again (I’m having far too many old school dreams!) and my old form room was a hotel room I was staying in. I was getting dressed when the pope walked in to meet me and I had to try and hold my trousers up while curtseying to him.

Another night I dreamed I was in Australia listening to a woman telling me the story of how stupid her husband was and how he flooded their house. I flew over a field and landed near some bushes where Elmo (yep little red Elmo from Sesame Street) was gardening!

And then I took a friend to see Les Miserables, I kept saying ‘Its brilliant, fantastic, you’ll love it’ - it turned out to be a rubbishy amatuer production which bore no relation to the REAL Les Mis.

I’ve also remembered two more repetitive dreams I have; going up escalators the wrong way & falling down/ trying to climb up stairs - I’m scared of heights!

So the Pope and Elmo - not bad eh? I once met Mick Jagger - he told me I had a cute butt!