Usual Stuff

It was one of those dreams everyone gets from time to time (at least hope its not just me).
Going to new job. Might also have been a new place to live.
Find my way to my room. Decide to go to the toilet. Wander around looking for one. Can't find any and so return to my room only to find it has disappeared. Other people are in the room I thought was mine although the room number is different.
Look down at myself and find I am only partially clothed and have to report to my new job in 5 minutes.
Of course don't know where the job is or what I am meant to do.
Hold on, maybe it wasn't a dream after all.

Breakfast Routine

Living at my childhood house I came downstairs for breakfast. The door to the kitchen was blocked by the frame of my old bike which my dad had painted green. He had gone off to work. I moved the frame into the hall.
Next job was to put the kettle onto the gas stove. However dad had modified this and flames shot up to the ceiling. My mum had appeared from work looking for a cup of tea. Problem was that apart from the dangerous stove the kettle was leaking. I dashed off to the shops for a new kettle.
At the first shop the assistant, who knew me, wanted me to buy a photo album made of cloth. It was peculiar in that it was full of magnificent pictures of Ancient Greek statues and landscapes. Your own photos got superimposed onto different parts of these pictures. It looked great.
I resisted its purchase and found myself back at the house clutching a giant electric kettle. It was big enough to climb inside.
Another problem was that it was dirty. Not new, been used before.
Got to take it back for exchange. Where to was the first problem. Could not remember buying it. No receipts in my pocket, no clues.
So, summing up, breakfast time, wet painted bicycle frame in the hall, flaming to the ceiling stove, no magic photo album, giant dirty electric kettle and no cup of tea.

The Whipping Bridge

I was at the top of a high cliff and looking down on a river estuary.
A bridge was at the other side of the water coming from somewhere out to sea.
Where it made landfall was a large gap which slowly whipped closed as a car approached land. The cars then went through a short tunnel. Seemed as if the weight of the car helped some sort of whiplash effect. No cars travelled in the opposite direction. Unusual.
Standing in the water and observing the bridge were two giant men. Either they were giants or the bridge and the cars were tiny.
They saw me looking at them and one shouted up an obscenity.
Probably all best left alone.

Brown Spots

My back was covered by brown spots. I brushed them off but they just kept reappearing.
Thought I would shower them off which also worked but back they came.
Leaving them seemed the best, if unsightly, option.
Some weird disease perhaps.

Cold Comfort

I had got myself a job with the British Antarctic Survey.
My first impression was one of total desolation. Endless snow and ice with grey windswept rocks dotted around the landscape.
I went into the only building I could see. A large ice covered shed. Inside were loads of people milling around looking for bunks. I found myself a narrow shelf complete with a thin grey blanket.
Next thing was finding the toilet. Off I went and spied a queue. Must be for the toilet.
In fact two queues, for the only toilets serving around 300 people.
I waited and waited.
Not even sure what my job was with the company.
Life in the deep, frozen South sure was hard.

The Red Tomato

A grey world, grey sky, grey land, grey trees.
Some movement caught my eye.
Looking to my left I could see the Editor gazing up at a huge red tomato hanging about 30 feet up a tree. The only patch of colour visible.
I asked about the tomato and the Editor said that he wanted it for his packed lunch.
I recommended a long pole but no, the Editor had other ideas.
He jumped up and down waving his arms.
I thought that was a hopeless way to obtain the tomato but as he jumped up and down, some sort of vortex was created and the tomato fell with a splat onto the grey ground.
However enough was salvageable for a packed lunch.
Result.

An Unlikely Story

I was standing on a sea cliff gazing out at the ocean. A rumble of hoof beats made me turn round. Approaching me and the cliff at full gallop was an army of Japanese horsemen carrying spears and white flags.
I ran along the cliff and down some slopes onto the beach. I moved along until I was underneath the massive cliff and gazed upwards. No falling Japanese horsemen were visible just white clouds sailing out to sea.
So, I busied myself tightening up guy ropes that held the cliff up.
Then I moved off to where a queue had formed to see an old grey haired woman lying on a bed at the top of the beach. She was giving each person a few wise words before they moved away.
As my turn came I tripped over her bed clothes and fell flat.
No wise words for me.

Four Joes

It was dusk and I was in the town of Kinross. I wanted to get to Perth and so I decided to jog overland. This I did in the gathering darkness, 12 miles in an hour, not bad going.
In the High Street I was looking for a joiner by the name of Joe Brown. I found him looking like a cross between the singer and the rock climber.
I talked to him about a window that I had repaired at the request of Joe the artist.
I took him to view my repair down a richly tiled High Street close at a Therapy Centre.
We were offered a cup of tea then I took him to the room with the window repair.
Oddly the room now had no windows.
Perhaps my repair had gone too far.