As the nights get shorter, my dreams are becoming more mundane. It is as if the pressure of express dreaming is crippling my imagination. I can only picture myself asleep, hugging a pillow and yawning, bored.
Last night I dreamt my brother and I were walking along a road. It is a real place but, in my dream, it featured slight alterations. In reality it is a country road, flanked by fields, the green broken only occasionally by a bungalow or private avenue. Last night, however, one of the fields featured a high electric fence, similar to those in Jurassic Park, only ramshackle and unprofessional in construction.
And this is the boring part of the dream.
My brother and I were kicking a football along the road, towards the town where we went to school, Newport. Well, I was kicking it, tapping it along with the inside of my foot, as my brother grumbled beside me. He wanted to play. I motioned okay – I don’t think I dream in sound – but only if he keeps the ball on the road. Naturally he sends it over the fence.
Despite this being my dream, in my head, under my duvet, I could only concoct marginally safe holes in the fence for my brother to crawl through to retrieve the ball. The one that really sticks in my memory is a portcullis section of the fence, a door that closes down with teeth that stick into the ground, tight and secure. This was being held off the ground, leaving enough space for a body, by an empty milk carton. We didn’t take our chances and had to suffer the rest of the dream without sport.
I can only hope tonight brings nocturnal entertainment to meet my usually standards. Otherwise God, if you’re listening, just let me slip away peacefully. I need to chat to you anyway about the Universe, Time and everything. I’m experiencing some difficulty understanding this stuff. Danke. Auf Wiedersehen.