Sunday, 26 July 2009
Thou Shall Not Stalk
The more I read of Alan Bennett's diaries, combined with an article in The Times by Jonathan Miller about his street, the more I realise it would take little effort on my part to find his house. It's difficult for that sentence not to sound utterly creepy, but you'll be reassured to know I don't intend to to so. I admire the man massively and so it's extremely tempting, but nobody wants to be the alarming stalker, however big the hero.
Recurrent?
Last night's dream was one of those that I felt like I'd had before, but with a few added extras thrown in. It started in a large house, like a hostel almost, where I was to stay, with rooms practically in the roof for the girls. I ventured up there and found it suprisingly nice, dipped my head into the first, rather tiny, room to find the two beds already occupied. So, I looked into each of the two other available rooms, both looking far more appealing than the former, but in a fit of indecision opened and closed each door alternately to reach a decision. Every time I reopened the door, the room had shrunk, until barely habitable at all, so I looked back into the room I'd first entered, to find it had grown in size and an extra bed appeared, and so I took my place in this original room and dozed off.
When my dream self awakened the following morning I wandered down the vast set of stairs into a bizarrely dark kitchen, to suddenly be overcome with a fear that there was some kind of ghost or spirit here with a will to hurt me. In my panic I backed into a corner only to find it inhabited by my dad and two of my closest friends. The corner then expanded to reveal them sat around a breakfast table in an equally dark room. My fear reached new heights for no discernable reason and in an attempt to calm me, the three of them ushered me outside and into dad's care (for some reason now a Morris Minor) and took me on a drive. As we drove the streets got darker and narrower, until we were forced to stop. In search of assistance we stumbled up an allyway containing a few darkened and shuttered shops. The lights were on in the chemist, but I refused to enter, instead choosing the hairdressers further up, the sign for which was on, but all other lights were not. I went in alone, and was immediately stood on a chair by the shop worker, who proceeded to hold the usual inane conversations with the base of my spine, while doing absolutely nothing to my hair or any other part of me, simply standing and wittering. She suddenly stopped and the lights dimmed, my dad and friends entered from the front, dad stumbling on the step and dropping something. I bent down to reach it as I jumped off my chair, missing at first, and, with some apprehension which I shrugged off as left over fear, reached again. As I grasped the item the tiled floor formed a hand that grabbed my wrist, pulling me into darkness, and consciousness.
When my dream self awakened the following morning I wandered down the vast set of stairs into a bizarrely dark kitchen, to suddenly be overcome with a fear that there was some kind of ghost or spirit here with a will to hurt me. In my panic I backed into a corner only to find it inhabited by my dad and two of my closest friends. The corner then expanded to reveal them sat around a breakfast table in an equally dark room. My fear reached new heights for no discernable reason and in an attempt to calm me, the three of them ushered me outside and into dad's care (for some reason now a Morris Minor) and took me on a drive. As we drove the streets got darker and narrower, until we were forced to stop. In search of assistance we stumbled up an allyway containing a few darkened and shuttered shops. The lights were on in the chemist, but I refused to enter, instead choosing the hairdressers further up, the sign for which was on, but all other lights were not. I went in alone, and was immediately stood on a chair by the shop worker, who proceeded to hold the usual inane conversations with the base of my spine, while doing absolutely nothing to my hair or any other part of me, simply standing and wittering. She suddenly stopped and the lights dimmed, my dad and friends entered from the front, dad stumbling on the step and dropping something. I bent down to reach it as I jumped off my chair, missing at first, and, with some apprehension which I shrugged off as left over fear, reached again. As I grasped the item the tiled floor formed a hand that grabbed my wrist, pulling me into darkness, and consciousness.
Doctor!
Recently the mind's been plagued by my Doctor (as in Who) and various goings on in each of our lives but essentially my own paranoia egging the plague on. As a consequence I've spent vast swathes of time imagining his absense to be caused by a trauma on a distant planet, too dangerous for him to take me, Romana, along too, leaving me behind to death defying feats in space, rather than to Canada and pretty girls.
A Dream
Two nights ago I had the most amazing, but now unfortunately very blurred dream. As far as I recall I was living in a quirky little bungalo with Neil Gaiman, Amanda Palmer and a mystery male who I can no longer place. Nothing particularly special happened, just mundane household chores and for some reason the odd boardgame. I've never been a big boardgame player and have no recollection of any of the other parties involved ever so much as mentioning such trivial activities, but such is the world of dreams.
Saturday, 25 July 2009
The Beginning
This is the start of a new kind of blog for me. I blog elsewhere, I tweet, I ramble, I facebook, I VLog, but this is for the, some would say, odder side of me. Namely, for me to post and store my short stories and daydreams, lyrics and thought processes. I don't know quite how yet, but these things tend to sort themselves out.
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