Saturday, October 11, 2008

the naughty bits and other dreams

It is very rare that I have a dream with ‘naughty bits’. I had one last night, or this morning. Unfortunately the only parts of the dream I remember are precisely the norty bits and those are not really very interesting to relate. I was away in some course -perhaps a guitar course, I think, but guitars didn’t make any appearance in this.

There was another dream -or perhaps the same? where I was meeting some friends for some sort of fest at the big labyrinthical building, which was mostly blue this time. They wanted to go to a different place, for which we had to take a complicated series of underground trains, some of which went apparently through water, outside the windows you could see something like sea weeds swaying as the train passed. All the while I was worried about having left my car in that place, at the Labyrinth Building, and that I would never be able to trace my way back. How was I going to recover my car? It was in the train that I ran into the girl. She didn’t seem particularly friendly and she didn’t make advances of any kind. We crossed paths a few times and on the third time or so she pulled me along to a bathroom on the side. It was rather clean and shiny but the toilet hadn’t been flushed. She just pulled her skirt up and bent over. The contents of the toilet bowl, bright yellow, swayed with the movement of the train. The tiles were shiny, the window blinds closed. I knew what she expected me to do, but hesitated -then I woke up to the radio whispering the voice of John Humphrys interviewing some pundit about financial crises and collapsing governments. I rolled over to switch the radio off, thinking ‘this should be the dream...’ but, curiously, still concerned about how could I have retrieved my car in the dream.

There is a house that belongs to my uncle, my mother’s brother. He’s been dead for a few years now, but here he’s still alive. I seem to be sharing the house with him. It is far away in Venezuela, in some place that ‘feels’ to be on the coast near Caracas, with a long garden or a glade, although I’ve never seen it in the daytime. I always have some difficulty getting there, the route is not clear in my head. My room is untidy, full of things I don’t always recognise. Some are like ancient versions of things I have here in my rooms in London: video recorders, electronic musical instruments, a couple of computers that seem to be Apple IIGS rather than Macs or PCs. It is a place where hardly anyone ever goes apart from me; even my uncle I’ve never seen in the house although I ‘know’ he lives there. It is a quiet place, though, and I can work there. I also can waste a lot of time: the video recorders and the black and white television seem to have an inexhaustible supply of very old movies. It can be a little bit scary on my own there, when I realise it is the middle of the night, I’m in the middle of nowhere and I see a flickering light outside, as of a torch. Then I turn the television/monitor off and listen, holding my breath -and wake up.

There would seem to be many worlds in those dreams, that interconnect by subterranean passages unavailable to me..

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