I dreamed a dream

Susannah Boil dreamed a dream, didn’t she? And everyone was terribly amazed, because, bite my hinges, it wasn’t terrible despite her hirsuteness. (Really, I’d expect hair to absorb the sound and improve the acoustics, like carpets and curtains do.) That’s how I remember it, anyhow, although I was rather busy frothing with rage at the fact that Piers Morgan is allowed to be a member of Society and not be pelted with corks. Of course, this is a very topical topic right now, and nobody has ever pointed it out before.

Interestingly, I have not watched the video. Maybe nobody has, and it’s all a big conspiracy theorem. A bit like the moon landings, but actually true. No, that doesn’t work. That’s a rubbish idea. Sorry.

A nice way to do over 100 words,all that, but nothing to do with anything that I am trying to point out here. Apart from the word “dream”. Because I have a strange desire to tell you about a dream I had. Yeah, again.

It seems a sensible thing to do. Why not? Everyone has dreams, so everyone can relate to it, you know? Besides, judging by Boil’s success, it might increase my YouTube numbers – obviously I don’t care about such pathetically shallow things, but I’m so fantastic at what I do that the world deserves to know about it.

I notice that there is a website that, like, lets you interpret your dreams and shit. I’ll let the website explain for itself, with this helpful blockquote.

You are entering a mysterious and fascinating world of dreams where the rules of reality do not apply. We hope that Dream Moods will help you make sense of your dreams and achieve a better understanding of them. We’re dedicated to helping you find the key to unlocking and interpreting the meanings to your dreams. By understanding your dreams, you will gain a better perspective on your life.

It’s a bit useless website. If I am feeling, say, thirsty1, I don’t need to look on a website to tell me that I am experiencing that emotion. I am concious enough to be able to tell that that’s the emotion who is tickling my armpits today, and I can sort of guess that the dream I had about salty mangoes2 was connected to this emotion.

So. The dream. I appear to be piling boxes of charcoal and firelighters onto a crate. Then I am standing behind a counter. The queen arrives – sporting a controversial new hairstyle that everyone tuts about – and I am so surprised by this famous celebrity’s shock unexpected appearance that I do not curtsey. So she walks backwards and then forwards again, like a sizzling Betamax cassette, to give me a second attempt.

I do not for one moment do the sensible thing and point out that the monarchy is a ridiculous idea that should have stopped when we invented plastic corks (well, it is), and that this old lady who is here to collect a piece of laminated cardboard should be treated just like any other lady who is here to collect a piece of laminated cardboard.

I certainly do not point out that laminating cardboard is not very environmentally friendly. But I should have. I will do that next time. We can’t have them people who live in my head laminating laminations or whatever. Rubber.

I would tell you more but I have run out of time. This was a bad idea. Laters.

1 Yes, I know that thirst is not really an emotion. It was just the third thing that came into my head.

2 I didn’t actually have a dream about salty mangoes, I’m afraid. Bit of a shame, that. Wouldn’t it be nice to dream about salty mangoes?