6 days 18 hours
6 days and 18 hours and last night I had a really weird dream.
First of all everything is going ok, well it was until yesterday and then I found myself fixating on little trysts I’d had a work, getting all wound up over mostly nothing. The day was going on and it didn’t get any better so I thought that the cold turkey of stopping the patches on Thursday or thereabouts wasn’t working and I peeled out and pressed on a new patch. Hey presto, a full day of work and no fixating.
But the dream last night… well it wasn’t exactly as good as the one where I composed a full opera and it was performed on stage and lasted for hours, but it was well a bit interesting.
If you yawn at others peoples dreams then give up hope now.
It started in a forest and average Joes were being hunted down by unknown assailants and then it cut to a shopping precinct. A group of people with their hands bound to guns were released onto the streets, all were fitted with animal costumes, large zebra heads, antelope heads, you get the picture and they had been surgically altered to be grotesque and to limit their movements, sight and actions (eyes on stalks, legs sewn at the top – not nice but hey it was weird). They were attracting some attention from the smattering of shoppers as they walked along the road, most didn’t notice the ordinance they were carrying, but they seemed to be asking for help as they shambled along. At that point a zebra headed man approached a little old lady with a shopping trolley and she pulled out a shotgun and gunned him down, at that point the shambling crowd didn’t know who to trust and they opened fire on the innocent shoppers and as some shoppers fell others disguised as shoppers pulled guns from their overcoats and shot the animal people down. The police arrived and a noticeable section of shoppers slid off as the police shot down the remaining animals as they wildly shot into the crowds.
Cut to me and a bunch of friends making friends with a bunch of girls and them inviting us to a party in Scotland, I met a rather attractive but quiet young girl who didn’t seem to fit with the rest but who still seemed interested in inviting me to Scotland. As dreams do I was suddenly in Scotland and it all became pretty standard horror at that point, we wandered around and remarked on places that would obviously become hiding points later, the girl obviously didn’t agree with what was gong to go on but in the story etc. The really unusual bit – yes not stranger but slightly remarkable – was when we were sat in a Jacuzzi (with Jeremy Clarkson, hey go figure), this bit was like my opera dream, there was music playing and on came something that was very modern but sounded a bit Burt Bacharach, I remarked to one of the revellers that this was really good, they agreed and it suddenly picked up pace with rasping guitars and the chorus was: Waiting for a plan, I’m waiting for a plan etc. sang as Wah-tin for plaaaaan, I’m Wah-tin for a plaaan etc. it really was good, so much so in the dream I was Shazamming it when I woke up. I hummed it all morning and even sang it into my iPhone so as not to forget it.
I mean the opening bit of the dream was quite interesting but what does really interest me is that I can come up with an original bit of toe-tapping music in my sleep while only under the influence of a nicotine patch. If I tried to do it in my conscious state I wouldn’t have a clue, I might be wrong though and I’ve just recalled something I heard in the past but whatever it was it really was good. I do believe though it was just a bit of my untapped brain working and it’s all there to be mined if only I knew how to.
Actually the dream was rather weirder than I can write here, but the opening gambit wouldn’t be too far from a half-decent TV drama or movie. The thing is this, this was the one I remembered, this was the one I had as I approached waking, what the Dickens goes on the rest of the night.. erk.
OK fitness and all, my new running shoes should be coming soon, I’m back on Omega 3 and Glucosamine and Chondroitin, I spent yesterday moving a ton of books from upstairs to downstairs (and everything else upstairs as I’m starting decorating the full first floor soon), hundreds of trips, I’m not a sweater but I did start to get a bit browbeaten by the end of five hours of stair traversing.