Fifty Long Hot Summers

I bought a new Mini (old type) and was driving along a winding coast road with 2 passengers. I picked up 2 more and continued up a steep hill. The car started to stall. I stuck a foot out of the door and assisted the car upwards. Success, summit achieved, just.
I then parked and walked down a narrow track to the sea.
A group of old houses stood on the shore. Also an ancient, wooden, Cadbury Chocolate factory. All peeling paint and rotting wood. People were living inside, like relics from the fifties. Nothing had changed except all were older and more decrepit.
Another dream of me, I know. .

Parrots and Raspberries

In a pet shop and saw a huge, light blue parrot. The man let it out and it landed on my wrist. It started to speak to me like a person would, but instead of listening to the message it was keen to deliver, I dashed off and heard it say "Goodbye," in a pained voice.
I cycled off but walked when I came to a steep hill. Alongside the road were raspberry bushes with raspberries the size of pineapples. They looked and tasted gorgeous.
I photographed one with my mobile and another cyclist up ahead urged me to hurry. Why? I wondered as I was not holding him up. Why did he not taste the raspberries as well?
Then he told me he had a BBQ to organise.
I sort of understood.

Prison Break

I was a prison warder and it was time to go home, it had been a long day. However, I may have been a prisoner and it was the end of my sentence. Whatever, it was time to leave.
As I was about to go out of the door the lights went out. A power failure.
All the cell doors sprung open and prisoners were everywhere.
One big guy, held a knife to my throat and said he was going to kill me.
He lunged at me, folded the knife up and then handed it over.
"No hard feelings?" he said, shaking me by the hand.
I was amazed at the turn around.
Then I looked over my shoulder and saw two guards with chrome plated rifles aiming at my new found friend.
Aah well, that's the way the world works I suppose.

Disturbance in the Night

Was awakened at 3am by the sound of someone on my roof. I looked out to investigate and discovered a building firm starting to insulate my roof and ceilings. There was also a blizzard.
They were stapling padded tinfoil to the underside of the ceilings and further securing it using mock Tudor beams.
I spoke to one of the workmen and he said the Firm never slept. They worked 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, all year round. They took it in turn to doze in one of the vans. Thus they kept ahead of the Competition.
I told the rest of my household that there was nothing to worry about, except the fact that it was snowing in August.

Ascending to the Light

Driving up to a lighthouse for a look around in my new red convertible.

We were met on the approach road by the Keeper who told us to park at the bottom of the hill and make our way up through a dark tunnel which eventually led to the Light.

Whilst taken with the metaphor (even in the dream) I felt lazy and argued over Rights of Passage etc.

My colleagues then convinced me of the Error of my Ways and such like.

I then reversed back down and began the long Ascent.

Out for a Drive

I was driving along a dusty road in Iraq when I had a rear wheel puncture. I was on some sort of Sunday afternoon drive. Luckily I was passing a garage who fitted a new tyre at a reasonable cost. I drove further into the desert and was following a heavy truck when I had another puncture. I pulled over onto the rubbly verge and jacked the rear end up again. I went for my spare but it was all shredded.
A group of tribesman approached from over the sand.
Three armed children walked past, but they were not really children but sort of South Park caricatures.
It was all a bit scary.
Did the AA operate in Iraq? Probably not.
Why was I there in the first place?

The Motorcycle Ride

Sitting around a round table with my 16yr old son and a large group of Hells Angels type motorcyclists. They were instructing him in the lore of their lifestyle and he was mesmerised. Outside was a huge group of Harley-Davidsons glistening in the sun.
I went outside leaving them to chat.
A German friend was waiting for me outside with his Harley-Davidson, driven by his 6 month old son and he was riding pillion. A large horizontal frame type sidecar at right angles to the machine was for me to lie on.
The total width of the combination was thus around 10 feet.
I lay down and we set off, feeling perhaps a trifle anxious.
But I soon fell asleep as we rolled along the sunny, dusty road. Bliss.

Running for No Reason

The train stopped in an open area of country. Border police boarded and started to make their way through the train. I jumped out and made a run for it. Others, presumably with different guilt problems, legged it as well.
I ran along a track and hid under an overhang of turf. I had heard a searching helicopter. I peeked out and saw a long thin pencil like machine, without rotors, hovering overhead. Black helmeted personnel sat in open chairs on either side, peering down.
I ran off again, imagining thermal imaging. I ran into a wooded country estate, past a pipe smoking colonel and his tartan trouser suited daughter. They were both startled and she ran after me. I can easily outrun her I thought. But no, a minute later she was loping alongside, asking me why I was running.
I stopped and said that I had no idea.
"Work on it," she said.

Beaten by German Fork Hunters

Last night I was walking along a country lane with some of my new Ikea cutlery.
The track was muddy and up ahead I saw around 1000 stationary Germans in orderly lines. Perhaps military, I'm not sure. I threaded through them and got ahead of the group.
But to my dismay I found I had lost some of my new forks.
I retraced my steps to search for them.
But, the Germans had been mobilised by their commander and ordered to search the lane for, naturally, old cutlery.
The commander had already found several old forks and spoons.
I ran through the group and an amazing amount of cutlery had been found.
Having no German to explain about my lost Ikea stuff, I had little chance of finding them myself.
Despair.
What a load of tosh.

The Tunnel

Walking through a tunnel under my nearby City. I was with an off duty policewoman. We met a well known businessman, who was present on my first rock climb, Crowberry Ridge on Buchaille Etive Mhor. We chatted and moved on towards the tunnel exit, outside the Clydesdale Bank.
No traffic, no people, just silence.
"Must be a Public Holiday," was the marginally reasonable explanation.
Then I saw two world maps on the diagonally opposite street corner.
A ghostly figure was colouring them in, although the marks were appearing in advance of his brushstrokes. We watched in fascination.
One was a weather map, obvious enough, wind directions predominant.
The other had numerous red blotches surrounded by black fuzzy expanding circles. Some were on the UK.
Then we realised what was going on.
Nuclear War, Armageddon probably.
Back to the Tunnel?

Exploding Cupboards and a Magical Tablecloth.

Two dreams last night.

The first was knowing that something was amiss in the rest of the house. I got up and wandered through from the bedroom and found that all my kitchen units and cupboards had exploded from the inside. Needless to say the place was a mess, stuff everywhere, nothing intact. Real enough perhaps.

Then, an AA patrolman gave me a present of a tablecloth he had picked up abroad. It had clear helium balloons fixed with string every square foot or so. If you peered into each balloon a 3D scene became visible which was of a real place far away. The middle balloon which was the largest was capable of lifting a person up into the air. He demonstrated this by thrusting his arms up into the balloon neck and up he went, tablecloth and all, for a few yards then slowly descending.

I tried it, but too close to overhead power lines, wimped out and woke up, alas, without the tablecloth.

The Baby

I was asleep in a dormitory which appeared to be in the upstairs bedroom of the old council house that I lived in. I was in a chair at the foot of a bed containing my sleeping daughter, who was around one third of her present age. Needless to say I was clutching a baby who belonged to neither of us, but was, luckily, sound asleep.
Then some yob came in and woke up another of his type on the other side of the room. They started to speak and laugh loudly. A muffled "Shhh" came from some other bed. No difference, the noise continued and got louder.
I lost it. I stood up and roared,
" If you c**** don't shut up, I will f****** kill both of you."
Stunned silence, but followed by another faint, "Shhh."
However the baby woke up.
I asked my daughter, who was also now awake, and a bit scared (probably of me), what she fed it on.
She replied, "Corn Flakes."
Having forgotten to bring any, I tried feeding it a tomato I found on a nearby shelf.
We all tried to settle down again, but the sleeping spell in the room had been somewhat broken.
That's why I was awake at 5am.

Everest

A dream about heading towards Everest for a winter ascent. It was a beautiful day and the mountain looked fantastic.

I was wearing a stout pair of shoes and my best anorak. I carried some Kendal Mint Cake and a Scottish flag for the summit.

Training had included walking up my driveway each day to see if the postman was on its way, so the attempt was not undertaken lightly.

After all, how hard could it be?

A Most Peculiar Beach.

I turned off the road heading for The Seaside. Not looking promising but I've heard it is good. A line of factories at the road end.
I approach the run down buildings only to find they are only a front, a wooden facade hiding the most extraordinary beach.
I squeeze through a gap in the wooden brickwork and find sand as far as the eye can see. The sand is wet underfoot as I head to the distant water. The beach dips sharply down and much to my surprise, about 5 miles away and several thousand feet below I see the Proper Seaside Town.
But, it looks like where I am standing has recently been covered by high tide. How does that work? The Town must be under at least 3000 feet of seawater twice a day. Fascinating.
Then I see some of the cast of Still Game run out of a beach hut and swim naked in a nearby rock pool.
Its all too much and I wake up in my nice dry bed, with the tide still out.

Lost in Big Brother House

I fall asleep and find myself in the Big Brother house. I go into the bathroom with around three others with my every move being pointed out by the commentator. Ziggy has just run a bath and has made himself a paper boat. It is incredibly detailed and seems like a fully operational bath going liner. It floats in circles and then it sinks.
Being in the bathroom with the others freaks me out and so I go back into the corridor in my pyjamas. I am then confronted with a BB Open Day which I know nothing about. Various stalls are scattered around and another housemate is lying on her back, pushing with her feet and so propelling herself around between the legs of other people, to their consternation.
I then try to find the bedroom for a lie down, with the commentator still droning on in his weird accent.
I can't find the security of the bedroom but realise that may well be pretty scary anyway.
Where is the Diary Room so I can present my case for release?
I try to silence the Voice but not sure if its real or just in my head.
Luckily I find the door to Waking Up.

Another Planet

A visit to another planet was the subject of this dream. On one side of the mountain I had climbed was a smaller version of the other side.

Weird craft hovered motionless around me. I could see people on the road down on the plain, and on the other side tiny people on the other, much smaller, road.

The sky was pink, an excellent shade.

All very weird.

Mobile Madness

My mobile rang. It was a text from Australia but only the last part. Multiple texts then started to scroll down the screen. Other texts but not for me. Somehow I had accessed Text Central or wherever all these messages come from. Pictures flashed in front of me.
Messages for a million people.
This must be going on all the time. Every nanosecond someone gets a message from somewhere or someone.
Information exchanged for a billion reasons.
Endless messages . . .
I will need a new battery.

Time Travel

This dream was about watching an aeroplane travel through a multi coloured cloud. As well as watching the plane, I was also on board.

As the plane plunged through the different colours we faded from sight and passed backwards into time. The faster we went, the further back.

The past seemed like an endless universe to be explored. Where to go? But, how to land?

Reversing direction would take us to the future. More runways?

Undecided, I awoke to a misty 4am the same night.

A good clear decision never goes wrong.

The Chase

I was being chased by a gang of thugs in an industrial complex. I ran into a factory as I thought they were all friends of mine. Arriving in the centre of the factory floor I realised that either I had run into the wrong premises or the staff had changed. They were colleagues of the thugs. I was surrounded. They grabbed be and threw me into a cage of hot coals.
I was left for some time and then pulled clear.
Much to the consternation of all, including myself, I was completely unscathed.
It just felt like I had suffered a stern reprimand.
Excellent, I could live with that.

The Quarry

I pretended to work at a quarry. Huge pieces of yellow machinery littered the rocky floor. All of them were, for me, used for purposes unknown.
I wandered through the piles of rocks, feeling vaguely vulnerable.
Then I could smell cooking, mmm . . .
I came across a line of men at an open air canteen. Lunchtime.
I joined the queue. It was a sort of rough buffet.
I helped myself to a large bacon sandwich and sat down with some dusty workers to enjoy my hardly deserved gains.
This was the life.

Moon and Venus

Another from the archives. In this dream I got close to the moon, Venus was lying nearby. Also visible was Saturn, Mercury and Mars. It was one of those planetary line ups, some time back. The Moon and Venus, arranged like this was visible a few months ago, just like the painting. The reality was very impressive.

Mind you, what is real? In the dream I thought I was really out in space, nothing to tell me otherwise, apart from , perhaps, my logical mind, which seems to take a holiday during dreaming.

Last night I had a dream, not for current publication, after which I was certain it was not a dream, and lying in my bed was the unreal state.

Everything about the dream was as real as me typing this blog.

Where does the reality lie, if there is such a thing?

The Journey.

After searching the attic of my mind another batch of archive material has been discovered.

This painting was about a dream in myself and a woman who I had just met set off on a long journey through uncharted country. The land was mountainous, dangerous and arid.

It all seemed a bit alien.

We both started off with heavy backpacks but discarded most of it on the way.

The journey's end was unclear and I was not sure if I was up for the task.

Annoyingly the woman seemed more at ease.

We reached a pass, downhill now I thought, and breathed a sigh of relief. Too soon. The mountains stretched as far as the eye could see.

Character building.

This relationship business has no end.

Plane Crash

A beautiful evening at sunset. I decided to go out a walk with the dog. I wandered over a grassy field. A warm wind was gently blowing, storm clouds on the horizon. Growing dark.

Then a roar in the distance, growing louder.

I look up and see a jet airliner approach, headlights blazing, getting lower and lower.

About half a mile away it flips upside down and heads towards me. It is maroon and yellow.

I run like blazes, the dog following.

I have a vision of the upturned pilot fighting with the controls.

The plane crashes upside down into the field I have just left, and bursts into flame.

I stand and stare at sudden death.

Thoughts

Last night I had a lot of little thoughts. I buried them in the ground, around an inch apart, in a 'sieve' pattern. The ground which had been sandy, set like concrete.
Not sure if I wanted the thoughts to 'grow', but that would be the logical outcome. Perhaps 'logical' is the wrong word.
Thoughts solidifying into action.
My aim generally, but so far only partially achieved.

The Canoe

Setting out to sea in a second hand canoe, just the two of us.
Idly paddling.
Gazing round wistfully at the shore, which had of course disappeared.
Both of us facing the same way but not at each other.
Good thing perhaps as I probably look terrified.
Dip, pull, dip, pull, dip, pull, ad nauseum.
Where will it all end, should have shelled out for life jackets after all.
The sea is devoid of road signs, roundabouts or markings of any sort.
Need some sort of instinct.
Would just be happy with some sort of popular science intuition.

All this is of course to come, as I have just bought a rather clumsy looking, ex hire, non sea going canoe at a knock down price.
First fine day . .

Insect Man

I was a super hero named Insect Man. I chased a tiny red spider that an evil terrorist had put at the side of a swimming pool. It was going to swim along a damp floor and drop down into the pool. It would then bite and kill a passing swimmer. I chased it along the poolside just keeping it in sight with my magnifying vision. I then squashed it into a red mess with my super powered trainers.
I then set out looking for new insects to terrorise.

Cycle of Life and Death

Envisage the scene. A tall grey castle on top of a grassy hill. A blazing sun. A few flecks of high cirrus. A gentle breeze. The castle has two doors, one on top of the hill and a lower, main door, further down.
I emerge from the higher door with another man, both running. Around a dozen orcs and goblins attack us with razor sharp swords, bows and arrows. We are also armed with short stubby swords. I turn to attack two identical goblin twins, stabbing both through the chest. We run down the hill towards the safety of the lower door. Black arrows whizz past. I wait for the piercing pain of a hit.
I know what the arrows and swords feel like as they enter my flesh. This is not the first attack by the Tolkienesque band of warriors.
I know that we will have to go through the castle again and again, emerge from the upper door and run the gauntlet of the goblin/orc band. Sometimes we do not survive.
Must be a resolution waiting to be found.
Perhaps I need therapy.

Heure

I looked at my watch and discovered that I could no longer tell the time as the watch face had converted itself into French.
My shortest post yet.

Trailer Derby

Standing outside my house watching the cars and lorries going by on the nearby motorway. Suddenly two artic trailers zoom by apparently racing each other. Its only the trailers, not the power units.
One veers off the road and hurtles towards me but luckily swerves to one side of the house.
I stagger up to look again and more trailers are roaring along the motorway, ramming each other to get in front.
I decide against taking the car to the shops.
Has the world gone mad?

The Underground

Found a cave under a hill, and looked inside.
It was an Aladdin's cave of old tinplate railways. An endless underground station, rusty and neglected from the 1950's. Somehow all connected to my father. In fact, it may have been an aspect of him, somehow.
The cave was only around half a metre high, but I was able to walk around in it, explore.
The tracks seemed to go on forever, as did the cobwebs.
I started to walk further in and the way back seemed to get less clear.
Perhaps to go on was a strictly one way affair.
I returned to what I thought was the 'Way Out'