Blog 144: Tortilla Sky

Another one of my dreams, which I more or less remember,  features myself, my friend Iain, his girlfriend (who just became his fiance, so CONGRATULATIONS) but who will remain nameless because I don't know if they want me blabbing all over the internet, and my girlfriend who will remain nameless because she doesn't exist in real life and I genuinely can't remember the face or name she had in the dream. Sorry.

Anyway, we all went on a little holiday to Barcelona, which according to my subconscious looks a lot like my secondary school but a lot more autumnal because all the trees were well orange.

While we were there, we thought we'd travel on the famous cable car system which weaves it's way through Barcelona's heart. I've never been to Barcelona, so I have no idea if it has cable cars going through it or not, so that might be a stupid dream invention or it might be just completely normal.

Upon entering the cable car, which was about the size of the bus, you had a choice of normal, bus like seats, or like, a bag thing, that hung underneath the cable car. Like a scrotum.

Which isn't so odd when you observe the 

rest of the architecture in Barcelona.

Of course, the choice of normal seats only became apparent once I'd already climbed into the scrote bit and got myself all comfortable in the little hanging pouch, so I decided to ride it out despite the extremely rude American girls behind me who kept saying how weird it was for me to choose those seats. I lied to them and said it was traditional. Hopefully they climbed into one later on in an effort to experience the 'real Barcelona', the fools.

As the cable car meandered over the streets below, I began to realise that it was more like a roller coaster than a cable car. We were swinging all over the shop, my bundled up legs narrowly avoiding rooftops and trees and those wires that hang all over the place in cities. It was a bit scary at first but quickly became really fun.

And at the end of the ride, the cable car hit a slope down towards the floor, where it would then leave the cables that held it up and park itself on the floor. It was a huge downward slope, and was lots of fun, like a giant slide. But Iain got scared and rushed to the front going 'what's happening?'. He was all worried because he didn't realise the cable car ended with a slope and thought we were falling. Silly boy, everyone knows the cable cars in Barcelona slope to the floor and park themselves! That's when I woke up, but it's too early. So I wrote this, and hopefully I'll dream a bit more now as I wander back into my sleep.

Just like a baby.

Blog 143: Elm Street Smarts

I don't really have dreams very often, but I do enjoy having them because they're so weird, and I was told that keeping a dream journal helps you to remember them when you wake up. But what's the point in keeping a dream journal if nobody reads it, I hear you ask. Well, the same reason I keep a blog even though nobody reads it. Because what else am I supposed to do now that the internet has grinded away at my life until all that was left was twitter and sometimes this blog.

So here's the first of, if this theory of dream journaling works, a few blogs about what happened in my dream last night. I'll skip out all the ones where I'm on dates with Jennifer Lawrence because for the sake of this activity, it should be assumed about 3 of those happen per night, and occasionally in lectures or when I'm driving to work.

So last night I had two that I can remember, the first being mega exciting. I was on a weekend away with my old church, but with some people from my new church too, and my friends and I decided we'd go out on a motorbike. Our weekend away wasn't in the usual location of somewhere near Milton Keynes but was, instead, in the middle of a desert wasteland somewhere. Eventually, I suppose, you run out of things to do if you always go to the same place, even Milton Keynes.

Ok. Especially Milton Keynes.

Anyway, one thing that apparently happens in the desert, according to my night-brain, is that it gets dark really quickly, and you can't drive back in the dark. So we had to run back. The problem being is that the bike got left in the desert, and the desert at night is full of massive spiders.

How would our brave protagonist get through this quagmire of a problem? By now the audience would have been hooked, as I'm sure you are. 

We returned to the place we were staying, and told my friend and colleague/sort of boss the situation. A lady overheard and suggested we borrowed her truck to go pick it up. It was a sensible idea, but dream brains don't really 'get' sensible. So we ignored it.

Everyone tried to persuade me just to go and getting, but I hate spiders and was too terrified so I didn't. (Remember, this is a dream. I'm sure in real life I would have heroically fought back the arachnid aberrations and rescued that bike, along with a random hot piece of damsel).

In the end, My friend/colleague/kinda boss decided to go. Off she went, into the darkness, armed with nothing but her intellect and her tiny hands...

And that's when I woke up. I'll never know if she came back alive, with or without the bike, or if she ended up paralysed, entrapped in a web cocoon like Frodo, under the slavering jaws of a thousand prickly beasts. If you'd like to finish the story, fell free to use the comments box, if there is one.

The second dream was a bit more family friendly, except for the beginning. It started with a boy at youth group writing something extremely rude on a bit of paper. I can't really remember what but, oh, it was awful. So, as the leader, I asked the culprit to own up, and he did, so I told him off. But as I was telling him off, his mum came to pick him up and she got cross that I was telling him off. So we argued, with me pointing out that he'd owned up and it was REALLY rude, but we went back and forth and in the end, the only way to settle it was for me to race the boy on some weird virtual floating Tron version of Scalextrics. I was winning the whole way, but flew off the track at the last minute (stupid Scalextrics). So the kid won, and that meant his mum had won the argument. But then I said "I won", and she said "you can't do that!" To which I said "Well if he can be bad, I can be bad," and left the room.

That's what happens when you mess with church youth group leaders.

 And everyone cheered. What a great dream.