dubdobdee: (hobbs)
1: I was towards the front of a crowd of people being charged by police on horseback — i got out of the way by running back through the crowd along the top of a railing (not the spiky kind, the aluminium tubing kind you'd maybe see at a cattle market or similar).

2: I was in a very very spacious modern leisure centre/concert hall/conference hall type space, which had many levels and stairways and balconies and so on, and large floor to ceiling windows on most of the outer walls. There were a lot of people there, everyone in elaborate Venetian carnival-level fancy dress: present for some kind of huge awayday team-bonding role-playing game, in which we were required en masse to submit to a not-yet-very-clearly specified, mildly authoritarian regime for the duration of the game. I was cheerfully boasting about how little I'd be playing along; ppl were trying to shush me or moving away from me, saying "They'll hear, you know," and similar. As the main hall emptied, with ppl moving off to their allotted spaces, it became clear that they had heard: that I was still here, without an allotted role I'd be informed of, because I had been allotted a darker and more frightening role without being told -- perhaps of ritual scapegoat, or anyway of the only person in the game that it wouldn't turn out just to be a game for. I was beginning to imagine difficult encounters and confrontations and worse; and wondering if it wasn't already too late to start playing properly or safely, or just leave — and also strongly feeling that actually I *wanted* to confront whoever it was going to be, and morally face them down. Except was I really made for this kind of stuff? Can I handle pain or prison?

3: an elderly and valued colleague was leaving the company, and we had gathered in someone's home to see her off, give her her card and present, celebrate her time with us, and have a nice party. The colleague in fact being an old lady who lived down the village where I grew up, an extremely sour-looking woman (known to cheekier locals as "lemonface") with an unexpected, almost twinkly sense of very very dry humour: she died, in her late 90s, about ten years ago. I was worried I was late; I was early. I started to wonder if having bare feet was appropriate; and had I remembered to sign her card (which she was looking at)? She handed it to me, and I began to read it: what looked like a very tidy list of names turned out to be a list of roles that the card's writer was saying, in a vast paragraph written in tiny very neat letters, she had played, symbolically, in her job: "mother, chef, cop..." it began.

The third doesn't seem much like the other two in terms of actual sense of threat to me, but the level of anxiety I was feeling was really much the same. Without the anxiety, the third is also more like the kinds of dreams I often have -- the first two, the first especially, not so much.

(I haven't been writing dreams up much recently -- mainly because I don't seem to have been having memorable ones for a long time. I don't really know how this works: it seems to go in phases, but I don't know what it relates to.)
dubdobdee: (hobbs)
... that ted honderich proposed rescuing democracy by renaming it "the unfathomable mathom"
dubdobdee: (hobbs)
i: that my school was celebrating old boys reunion day with a vast international anarchist festival, and my gran that was an actual real cambridge communist and knew anthony blunt and everything was meeting me there -- she said she was feeling a lot better (which she clearly was as she died in 1997) and that her doctor had said she could wear a bra again

ii: the theme of poptimism was 'prepared pop', and [livejournal.com profile] carsmilesteve had prepared by pouring chicken fat all over my LPs

(Maybe I posted this before but it DESERVES REPOSTING)
dubdobdee: (hobbs)
i dremt that JULIAN ASSANGE was sentenced to drive an east end bus during the 2012 olympics
dubdobdee: (hobbs)
Upset stomach all week climaxed in a bout of high temperature and summer flu: went to bed early, and when I eventually dozed off, I had one of those serial dreams -- that seth edenbaum and i were somewhere in rural hampshire planning against the flooding of the meads and glebes near the river test, small and fast-running and all set about with pollarded willows: and at the same time definitively solving the issue -- which is to say, developing an alternative -- to price signalling as a means of structuring decisions
dubdobdee: (hobbs)
i dremt that JOHN CRUDDAS had tried to grab at the youth vote by describing IAN DUNCAN SMITH as a "raw woody"
dubdobdee: (hobbs)
I dremt that John Lydon was a contestant on X-Factor. He had learned to sing quite well, and in pitch, but kept forgetting the words. Also he wore nothing but a loin-cloth made of sacking and had a pudding-bowl haircut.
dubdobdee: (hobbs)
The dream arrived in three parts -- it really was unusually long, yet somehow constructed so that I still remembered the beginning at the end.

i: It is evening. I notice through my glass front door that three small boys are peering discontentedly in at me, obviously cross that they are at the wrong flat. I pull silly faces at them and they start to lark about a bit spitefully. I chase them downstairs with a small water bomb (actually a plastic cup with a tiny amount in it).

ii: After some in-between stuff I don't recall, I find myself in bed (in pyjamas and dressing gown) on their front lawn. (Being in bed on the pavement is actually quite a regular dream for me.) I can see the boys up the side of the house, and they can see me. (The house is a pretty huge sandstone townhouse; reminds me a bit of the very posh houses on Kennedy Road in the Shrewsbury of my youth, but actually bigger.) They inform their mum about me and she comes over: I am ready to be apologetic; as piratical as I sometimes am in the abstract, or in my head, lying comfortably in bed on someone else's lawn somewhat requires explanation or justification. But she is anxiously apologetic herself, and thanks me -- I don't know why. I can see the boys stull crossly gesticulating in the distance.

iii: I set off home, turn the wrong way and immediately get entirely lost. After a while -- this doesn't really bother me, I get lost a lot in dreams and seem to have cheerfully resigned myself to it -- I realise one of the small boys is tailing me, the one I'd guessed was actually the child of the mum (the other two being friends). I ambush him so he doesn't scamper off, and confront him: what's he got against me? (I invoke dream-logic here, m'lud: in real life, I think it's fair to say I'd be the villain of the story...)

But instead of anything against me, a flood of rage and frustration pours out about his family. It's Christmas, he says, "and HE's here. And so is Kim. But we have an agreement! Not the one-page one, the REALLY LONG one." I know with asking that "HE" is a second dad, by marriage or just a boyfriend -- that this an unhappily divorced family, and that Kim is his unwanted new sister. I sit him down -- on a rock or tree stump in a forest, or similar -- and very seriously explain to him that Kim is almost certainly as confused and unhappy as him. It feels very important to me that he and she becomes allies rather than enemies in this situation. I don't feel he's convinced, and I don't feel -- as I'm listening to myself speak -- that I'm making a terribly good case.
dubdobdee: (hobbs)
I dremt it was the last day of my last term at school. Except not actually, the last day -- there were a few weeks to go. And not the last term, either: the second-to-last. But we were busy tidying up for the last day of the last term. My job was picking up the tiny brightly coloured little rubber monsters all over the floor, and returning them to their owner (one Julie Burchill) (who I wasn't at school with btw).

And that's it. I woke, and thought a little about this, and felt a wave of unspecified sadness. My actual last day I do remember bits of. Being in M's room, with a bunch of people -- the throng gradually dwindling, and other people popping their heads round the door to say farewell, and S cheerily calling "Have a nice life!" to them all as they went. I hope some of them have had.
dubdobdee: (bok)
plot of a hilarious odd-couple sit-com: one of the flatmates is Vaslav NIJINSKY

dubdobdee: (hobbs)
i: I dremt my grandma was singing a song about a small girl in yellow wellington boots. I said "you know there's a whole genre of pop called twee...?" and she replied: "I do. I've heard it. It's rubbish."

ii: I dremt I was throwing a party for the gang in Friends and the gang in This is England 86. But so far only Combo had turned up, and I was beginning to get cold feet.
dubdobdee: (hobbs)
i watched cloverfield last night -- oogly spidertroll aliens destroy new york, hapless partygoers capture doom on video -- after an afternoon watching pals play katamari damacy -- in which the player gets larger and larger by "rolling up" various islands and cities into "soul-clumps": as i drifted off to sleep, i was thinking a bit too much about how these are the same story from opposite PoVs...

actually dremt: that i watched [livejournal.com profile] carsmilesteve come second in the 800 meters at a track meet covered in slushy snow: he would have been third but the very fat and jolly russian who was leading had to rush off to the t0il3t as the last lap began
dubdobdee: (hobbs)
i dremt i was by mum's parents old house in s'bury, but it had been knocked down and a large dark green house designed like a chest of drawers with windows built in its place

i started to text my sister to tell her the sad news, except i remembered that she was in shrops and I WASN"T, so this must be a DREAM i'm having

interestingly, i don't recall such a straightforward use of logic, reasoning and recent accurate memory to conclude i was asleep -- but i *am* reading a book about sleep science (very sceptical any versions of the possible interpretation of dreams); the book claims we never dream in such a way as to plumb ourselves into remembered facts from more recently than several days ago... NOT SO in this case, as i clearly responding to (a) actual fact that b3cky is indeed in shrops as of sat morn; (b) my own disagreement with some of this book's claims!

my sleep-thru machine seems to have been a bit rear-ended also: i basically had a sequence of abt 10 very short dreams, waking after each one... this was the scientifically pertinent one, though
dubdobdee: (hobbs)
i: that v!ck and i were trying to find our seats -- next to each other -- in a very large and very poorly signed auditorium: seats numbered but NOT consecutively; there were extensive direction signs, but written in tiny crabbed pencil, and we had got split up bcz EVERY GORGEOUS WOMAN IN THE PLACE wanted to say hi to me and give me a kiss :D
ii: that my new cockroach trap i set last night had caught had caught so many the cupboards had all collapsed (IRL it has caught none so far, though there was one hiding in the sink) >>>:((((
dubdobdee: (hobbs)
i forgot all that i dremt, except the final words, spoken urgently, by a desperately posh unseen woman: "FAIND PEDDINGTON BEAH!"
dubdobdee: (hobbs)
i dremt the house i was born in was infested with mutant hedghogs:

a: they were mainly of polyform bodily: two or three conjoined in peculiar arrangements (not just side-by-side, but doubledecker or wheelbarrowed: in one two-headed pair the second was riding in the first's back like a child in a small kiddicar)
b: their spines were fashioned from wood, resembling small clothespegs, carved liked topiary, then artfully charred

we got into a huge argument whether the tremendous summer heat was responsible for their arrival and their appearance
dubdobdee: (hobbs)
i drent that when the hobbits met the elves on the eaves of the shire, the elves were there to get planning permission to open a big DIY store on the outskirts of hobbiton
dubdobdee: (hobbs)
... that george clinton's p-funk all stars, hit by the tragic death this week of STARCHILD (aka Gary Shider), had
(a) hired the LEX in his place, and
(b) released a full-length cartoon feature movie starring the lex as a character, to bed him into p-funkish public consciousness
dubdobdee: (bok)
i: work's two faxes are broke, and the editor and assistant editors are both away till next week -- result, work has slowed to a total stop...
ii: i dremt i dremt about GLITTER BEEF* last night

*ie that we went somewhere to eat some**, tho we did not actually ever encounter any, so i am no more the wiser than you, deah readah, as to its make-up
**somewhere with bright yellow plastic seating!
dubdobdee: (hobbs)
i: we were all staying in a house together somewhere, playing games organised by [livejournal.com profile] thebopkids, mostly from a booklet written in the 30s printed in white, black and red, a mix of constructivist designs and odd little figurative storypictures -- the game i mainly remember involved two players, each with a fake tongue, one red, one black, very much like one of the decorative bits on the bday cake* [livejournal.com profile] graciousviv made for [livejournal.com profile] mrs_leroy_brown; by thinking about eating difft foodstuffs you could make the tongue unroll, the winner the one with the longest tongue
ii: at some point i had to go to the local police station to present [livejournal.com profile] piratemoggy's passport to them, contained in a little carved wooden box with many of her other effects
iii: the passport was fine but the policeman then became interested in a small textile pocket, which he emptied out
iv: to his delight, it was full of MARIJUANA SEEDS, and he announced this to his fellow cops, who all began saying MARIJUANA in an annoying and silly way
v: he told me [livejournal.com profile] piratemoggy would certainly go to prison for three or four years; i said no she wouldn't, because the seeds were mine** (i was very very cross)
vi: the cops now all started mocking my apparent gallantry by imitating gorillas and jumping about the place making ape noises...
vii: ... but when this didn't seem to be swaying me, the cop who found the seeds sighed deeply, put them all back in the bag and said "ok, ok, but don't do it again!" HURRAH!!

cake
*see the little red and black rectangular strips all tiled: the tongues were like this
**which they were not

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