Dreams

[Slim]

I'm in a small room, possibly my old bedroom in Hartlepool. The bloke from the Classic Rock Review channel on YouTube is there, sitting next to Mark Knopfler. Both of them have acoustic guitars.

Classic Rock Review bloke hands me his guitar. Oh no. I've got to play in front of Mark Knopfler. But wait .. I pick a couple of notes and it's obvious the guitar is in a weird folky tuning. I have an excuse. Phew.

I mention to Knopfler that I enjoyed an interview he did a few weeks ago, in which he mentioned that he used to window-shop guitars at JG Windows in Newcastle (this happened in real life, it was the Patrick Kielty show on 5 Live). I tell him that I bought a guitar myself there in 1983, a second-hand Les Paul (that happened in real life as well).

Mark hands me his guitar, it's a Takamine. OK I'll play a few bars of Blackbird (McCartney's tune from the white album). That'll be easy enough. But my fingers won't obey my brain! I make a total dog's breakfast of it. In front of Mark Knopfler.

[The Picnic Wasp]

Two nights of terrible nightmares which I won't describe. Hopefully tonight will be peaceful.

[The Picnic Wasp]

We were all sent home from work as Russia was just about to begin a nuclear attack. I was driven into the city centre at crazy speeds by a female colleague in an old battered Peugeot hatchback. Later, when closer to home I met another, older former colleague from a different job. She was distressed having just attended a funeral. She hugged me and asked me to buy her two blank reels of cine film, 15mm and 16mm. I tried to explain the difficulty of this request and headed for home. On the way I passed a BP filling station about a mile from where I live. There was a bed on the pavement outside so I crawled in and tried to sleep. A Polish sounding girl, a stranger, started to hassle me about when I would find the film. I explained that a war was about to start and tried frantically to find my home number on my iPhone. This is a recurring theme, being unable to make my phone function in dreams. I seemed to reach home as the dream faded.

[Slim]

I'm in a French town, somewhere near the coast. It's either near the end of the war, or the beginning. It's about to be overrun by the Allies, or by the Germans. Everywhere is still, very quiet but there's a foreboding tension in the air.

I hear a song on the radio, by Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine. It's called Paedophilia Blue.

Weird one. In real life I'm fond of an artist called Puma Blue. Maybe that has something to do with it.

[Slim]

Really weird dreams early this morning.

I'm setting up a Scalextric set, I think in the front bedroom of our old house in Hartlepool where I used to play as a kid. I put everything in place; the track, the plastic crash barriers, the cars. But I can't find the transformer.

Then it's late at night, I'm outside a department store but the front door has been left open for me to go in and look for the Scalextric transformer. Why it might be in there I have no idea but it seemed to make sense in the dream. I push the double doors, they give way, I go inside and search the shelves. I can't find it anywhere.

Next, I'm in a ground floor flat on a pleasant housing estate somewhere. In real life it's not a real place but in the dream, it's somewhere I lived years ago. I'm looking through a bookshelf and I find Ordinance Survey maps of Hartlepool (again no such thing exists in real life). I realise I must have left them there years ago and I put them in a little pile to take with me. Then I realise someone else is in the room behind me, the present occupant of the flat. I turn to explain that the maps are my own property.

Finally, I'm at home in Hartlepool. My dad used to have a boat; nothing fancy just a little one with a basic cabin and an outboard motor. We're getting it ready to take it out to sea for a bit. But again, there's a part missing.

I go with Neil Peart, in his car, to visit someone he knows who might be able to help. Somehow in the dream, Neil has been substituted for my dad even though he's only about 30. It's Neil's boat. We turn up at the house. I'm wearing a backpack. It's an elegant, large house. I wipe my feet on a large doormat. We're shown in to a room at the front of the house. I sit at a table.

Two women come in to the room. They're pleased to see him. One of them hugs him.

What does it mean, I wonder? What's my unconscious mind trying to tell me with this "missing a critical part" theme?

[The Picnic Wasp]

This seems to be a common theme with dreams. Things not being complete or not able to be completed. I've spoken to many people over the years who aren't able to dial numbers on their 'phone or being unable to carry out an everyday task properly. An annoying recurring theme for me is missing shoes and socks and having to uncomfortably go about my life barefoot. I like it when Rush members turn up from time to time rather than this very unwelcome guy who turns up frequently in my more troublesome dreams. I have no idea why he should appear other than I think I was the only person at work who had him sussed. He played the daft laddie but he was very conniving. I've also wondered why I don't dream about God as I think of Him a great deal.