Monday, April 19, 2010

Dreams

I had the strangest dreams last night. I went to visit my mother and she had turned into, um... oh... how do I describe her... an asexual, foppish, insane devil – a cross between the prime minister’s secretary on Little Britain and Jack Nicolson’s Joker. Every wall in her house was covered in clothes on hangers billowing, giving a sort of curtain effect throughout the house. Every one of her possessions were there, but they had been somehow changed and made different and they were strewn all threw the house.
"Yes, I've done a little redecorating," she/he said.
She has a portrait of me painted as a kid, it had somehow been turned into a neon, flashing sign, the type you'd see in a casino. The house was jam packed full of stuff, over flowing out into the garden. It was a mess, a labyrinth of darkness.
It was like a bizarre, carnival hell.
She/he walked me through the house becoming more and more threatening, more and more condemning of my behaviour, more and more angry. I think it was the first dream ever, certainly that I can remember, where I felt in danger.
I woke with a start and lay there at 5am thinking that that dream was the work of a truly disturbed mind.

I must have fallen back asleep, because then I dreamed I was in a crowded bar. I was standing in the queue waiting to get a drink when Billy Joel walked in. He smiled and said hello and kept walking. I got my drink when Mark walked up to me and said, "Come on, you've got to go."
"Got to go where?"
"You're on in fifteen minutes."
"On where?"
"Singing with Billy."
"I'm what?"
"Your show is about to start."
"What do you mean?"
"You and Billy Joel." Mark looked incredulous. "What is wrong with you?"
"I just saw him..."
"Yes, he said he saw you. Come on."
"Why am I singing with Billy Joel?"
"Because he liked you singing with him so much the last time, he wants you to sing again. What is wrong with you?"
"But, I don't know the songs."
"Yes you do. Come on."
"I don't... know the words."
"You're just nervous, you'll remember once you are up on stage."
Then Mark and I were pushing through the crowd. I could see the stage lights coming closer.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the loud speakers roared. "Please put your hands together for Billy Joel." Thunderous applause. "With his very special guest Christian Fletcher...."

Why Billy Joel, I have no idea.

4 comments:

Gabriel said...

are you sure you are off weed?

FletcherBeaver said...

Actually...

Bold oy! said...

Usually the less I smoke the more I dream, so don't admit ;)

I've also had the dream that I had to perform and had no idea what.

FletcherBeaver said...

True. Infact, it is only when I don't smoked that I dream, or remember them. But, I have been smoking a little lately, but not this week.