A dream last night:
So me and The Missus were eating out – it might have been a restaurant, it was a dream and so hard to be specific. During the meal, I get up to use the bathroom and on the way back, I notice a fellow diner polishing bullets with his napkin. After the meal, we are outside and I discover a large hold-all containing more bullets and guns – it belongs to the guy inside. I use a mobile to call the police, but as the armed response team arrives, our gunman makes his break for it. He shoots his way out and I am left to dodge bullets alone. The police are outgunned and ineffective and so the gunman escapes the narrow London street. I follow him to a bathroom supplies shop, where he makes his base.
I want to get inside, but can’t go through the front door because he will kill me. It is now dark, but the light from the shop illuminates every in front of it, making it an ideal hide-out for the gunman. I go around the back of the premises and look for a door. I am in luck – in the darkness is an unlocked door. I quietly open it and descend into the gloom.
Immediately, I can hear the splashing sound of a large volume of water and the empty acoustic reverb of liquid on tile. As I walk down the stairs into the darkness, the sound of women’s voices become clearer and more apparent. I turn the corner and there is a large swimming pool. In it, are three young women swimming. They do not notice me as I hide in the shadows and walk past them. One of them sees me and asks me into the pool, but I decline saying that I have no swimming trunks with me. They giggle at me and their laughter continues as I find another staircase leading out of the swimming pool area.
I ascend and as I head upwards, I can see light. At the top of the stairs, I am stopped in my tracks by Peter Sellers in full Dr Strangelove regalia, except he isn’t moving. His head is slumpt forward and he appears lifeless. All of a sudden, he sparks to live reciting lines from the movie and waving his arm around in a sub-Nazi salute. I talk to “Dr Strangelove” but he doesn’t respond. He appears to be some kind of automaton. As I work my way past this obstacle, I see Peter Sellars again as Inspector Clouseau. He asks me if I have a licence for my minkey. Again, he is an automaton. I see Christopher Reeve as Superman and many other Hollywood stars. They pace around the well decorated apartment, reciting their lines, then moving on. Their performance repeating ad infinitum.
Suddenly, I come across an old man. He is the creator of these beings and explains that he loves movies and that they are his only companions. He is very lonely and has spent his life building up his bathroom fittings business – the shop space below us, containing the gunman. I tell him my predicament and he takes me to one side.
“Take this,” he says, handing me a very small fruit knife, “You will need to be armed.”
I look at the knife and even though I know my quarry has many guns, I know that this is all I will need to defend myself. I thank The Creator and he leads me down another set of stairs to the shop floor. The area is huge and well lit – almost too well lit as the light hurts my eyes. There are bathroom sets and shower units and the way each section is laid out is like a maze. It is a small rat run between the various bathroom suites and there is nowhere to hide. It is like a labyrinth and I fear that I will soon become the hunted.
In the distance, I can hear the gunman. He is firing out into the night – shooting at the police who are stationed outside the premises. Suddenly, all hell breaks loose and the police storm the bathroom shop. I duck down as bullets fly from all directions. I worry that I am going to be mistaken for the gunman and that I am going to get shot. I keep down low and scurry through the network of pathways, listening out for the taunts of the gunman and using them to locate his position.
I turn a corner and there he is crouching down, reloading his weapon. I take the fruit knife in my hand and slide it into him, into his back, in the general kidney area. He turns around in shock, drops he weapon and falls to his knees.
“You can’t do that!” he exclaims in complete surprise.
“But I just have,” I reply.
With that the focus of the dream changes and my foe has already been taken away. The Missus return and the shop is suddenly filled with familiar faces, people that I have known, many of them existing work colleagues of The Missus. There are also celebrities in the throng as well as faces that I am not too certain of. I can hear the clink of glasses and smell alcohol. I feel thirsty. This appears to be a party and everyone wants to talk to me about my vanquishing of the gunman.
That was as much as I can remember of the dream. Good one, ain’t it? I like it when they are cinematic.
So what’s been happening lately? Not much, been sitting in the garden in the sun, just chilling and discovering the delights of vodka and soft drinks. Lime cordial is my mixer of the moment. Tasty. Don’t worry, I have been working too – very slowly. Not felt like doing any recording at the moment – not inspired.
Not inspired at all.

« »