Well well, if that dramatic title doesn’t draw you in I really am at a loss as to how to ‘grab the reader’s attention’, as we said in GCSE English. Dreams are perhaps an appropriate subject for this post, since this week Joe bought a lottery ticket after dreaming he would win. He didn’t. I think overall my dreams last night were rather more exciting, though equally unlikely to be prophecy.
Last night, I first dreamt that I woke up in a hotel room with my sisters before noticing out the window that a building across the road was on fire. So naturally, I started to get changed to leave, though eventually discarded my socks since they were taking ages to put on. We met our parents in the corridor and left the building – my mother in a slightly suspect move deciding to throw my expensive suitcase onto the fire to “quell the flames”. Hmm. It’s a suitcase, made of fabric, are you sure this was not just an excuse to burn my property mother?
In the second part, we emerged into a parallel universe. Not that we thought it was a parallel universe at first as we walked down a street, but I started to get suspicious when I saw invitations to vote Thatcher even though it was only 1973. And if it is only 1973, then why are all these shops proudly selling DVDs? “Progress has been advanced faster here”, our guide told us. (Our guide? Ur, don’t ask me, she was just there.) If you’re getting worried that the dates of general elections are coming into my dreams, despair further that back in the burning hotel I had argued about child poverty graphs with an old Tory guy.
So most exciting, in the final part of my truly stupendous dream, I met God. I say ‘God’ – to my sci-fi mind God manifested himself as a suave man in a black outfit – so it could have just as easily been Sylar or something. But I certainly thought it was God, because I naturally spent the time arguing about his existence with him. (Yes, really.) He said at one point “I decided that…” which annoyed me, since how could an all-knowing being suddenly ‘decide’ something he didn’t know before? I put this to him, but he just gave a typical evasive answer and then took advantage of my distractions (I was fighting with Katie) to disappear. As you do.
Overall, I have to applaud my subconscious mind for that effort last night. Combining deep political and theological questions with a fast-moving science-fiction tale and plenty of action is no mean feat. However, as you may have gathered, there were a few too many loose ends and unanswered questions. My final rating: 7 / 10.
Well I had a dream about being chased by cowboy ice-creams who kindly held their fire while I climed into an ice-cream truck to chase a photographer. Beat that
I had a dream it snowed last night. And guess what. It’s snowing. Argh…
Snow’s wonderful. Why the argh?
Snow’s horrible. You get wet feet and little pikeys throw it at you.
Dom, I miss being able to blog. Fancy changing it to "Musings of a Red Dalek and his really annoying friend from Birmingham"???
Middle class children are equally capable of throwing snow. In fact, how do you know that it is not middle class children doing so? Do you know each one’s relationship to the means of production? If not, then you are assuming that this behavior is of the working classes.
If you do actually know their social class, then that still does not excuse the use of that term. It is disgusting to be abusive towards someone sheerly because of the class they belong to.
You could have a been a lot more abusive towards them without discrimination! Why didn’t you? As long as it wasn’t abusive to women.
Anyway, yes, you get wet feet, but you also get to see snow, and that is quite the sight.
I really did try and warn you Andy!
(For the record: snow is cool)
Yay! Dom + God – Sanna’s effort = progress!
Woah! Voluntary maths + Sanna – Dom’s effort = not allowed by the laws of nature
Our Maths, who art in textbooks,
Hallowed be thy Name.
Thy coursework come.
Thy will be done,
at home as it is in class.
(You throw religion at Maths, I’ll throw Maths at religion )
Brainwashing in primary school can be supported by the fact I *still* know every single word to the Lord’s Prayer after 7 years of not reciting it.