Cheese: Isle of Mull Cheddar (approx. 100g)
I was playing football, but not on a football pitch, in a massive building that had all sorts of corridors and rooms, but open spaces too. There were an awful lot of people there, not all of them playing football, and it wasn't always possible to tell who was playing and who was on what team.
I do remember there were a lot of older ladies in twin sets and pearls carrying around homemade jam - they were not playing football. After chasing the ball round this building for a while it came out in an open area, a sort of hall, and then it took on a more recognisable form of football.
I managed to get the ball and almost collided with an old lady carrying cup cakes, but kept my feet and coolly slotted the ball past Ben Fogle who was playing in goal. The goal, for some reason, seemed to also mean the end of the game, and having scored the winning goal I was ushered off into some room for a 'special prize'.
I walked into this room to be faced by Wayne Rooney sat at a desk. I sat down and he started asking me questions about music. He was asking me about Led Zeppelin albums, about rappers and all sorts. The questions got harder and harder and more and more obscure, when he asked me what the name of Freddie Mercury's gay lover was, I started to question what the point of this was and how it didn't seem like much of a prize to me. He told me to answer the question, I said I didn't know. He said 'That's a pity' and yanked a lever - a trap door opened and I shot downwards through it.
I had a soft landing after a short fall, rolled off the mat I had landed on and went through a door. I found myself in an office, but it was still clearly the same building. One of my former colleagues was there and asked me if I wanted to do any freelancing work as the company was short of people. I said I wasn't that keen, but managed to negotiate a very good rate.
He told me to sit at any computer and start working. He said the work was obvious - indeed it was, as it turned out to be games of noughts and crosses.
Freakiness: 4
Nightmare Factor: 4
Amusement Factor: 4
Enjoyability: 6
Coherence: 7
Vividness: 5
Monday 30 August 2010
Friday 13 August 2010
The Gunman's Balls
I don't why I'm surprised, but as soon as I post that I'm not really getting any dreams at the moment, I get an absolute belter thanks to some particularly awesome Isle of Mull cheddar (which bizarrely had no effect at all a couple of days ago).
Cheese: Isle of Mull Cheddar (approx. 60g)
I was on holiday with my wife and my parents, and we were driving up the Eastern coast of Spain somewhere. We stopped for a night at a spa hotel, at least I think it was a spa hotel as it was done out in a log cabin style.
The hotel had Christmas decorations up everywhere, despite it being July. I got my wife to ask at the reception desk why they had the decorations up, as she speaks good Spanish. After a long conversation which I only understood a tiny amount of, my wife said that they hadn't got round to taking them down and now next Christmas was closer than last Christmas so they figured they'd leave them up.
The next day we drove up to a nice cottage in the mountains, and then the main bit of the holiday seemed to get skipped as we were then heading back home. On the way home we got stuck in a massive traffic jam just by where the spa hotel was. We tried to take a cheeky shortcut through the hotel to bypass the traffic jam, but ended up having to go back and re-join the motorway further back instead of further forward.
When we got back to England we spent some time in London, and while we were staying in the hotel, a travel program was on, which by coincidence featured the spa hotel we had stayed in.
I wandered out of the hotel and down the street, there was a commotion going on and it soon transpired that a lone crazed gunman was on the loose. Before I knew what was going on, I had been shot, but not very badly, the bullet just passed one of my lower ribs.
I climbed into the nearest car to take cover until the ordeal was over. After a few minutes, the driver side door opened and the gunman got in. Apparently he had run out of bullets. He told me how he was going to go down the street and shoot people in certain cars. He then told me he was going to shoot me in this car. I replied that he couldn't do that now as he had no bullets left.
Instead he jabbed his fingers into my bullet wound, causing the most intense pain I've ever experienced in a dream. I writhed around, and in desperation, unleashed a very hard, adrenaline powered headbutt on him.
He reeled backwards, blood pouring from his nose. I reached over him and opened the door, and then kicked him out of it on to the road. I climbed across the seat and got out of the car. He was trying to get up and escape, so I gave him a good, hard kick in the testicles.
He dropped like a cheap hooker's knickers, and I administered another solid kick to the genitals. He looked up and pleaded with me to stop.
"Should have thought of that, before you started shooting people!" I yelled at him, before kicking him in the nuts for a third and fourth time.
At this point, the police came over to apprehend him. I was a bit worried that I'd be in trouble, but they recognised him as the gunman, so I was in the clear. In fact, the police were very thankful for my assistance in apprehending him.
They cuffed him, and before dragging him off, one of the policemen turned to me and said
"Would you like to kick him in the testicles one last time, sir?"
"Yes, thank you officer." I politely replied, before unleashing a proper mule kick to the knackers. He was no longer able to walk.
Freakiness: 8
Nightmare Factor: 7
Amusement Factor: 6
Enjoyability: 5
Coherence: 3
Vividness: 4
Cheese: Isle of Mull Cheddar (approx. 60g)
I was on holiday with my wife and my parents, and we were driving up the Eastern coast of Spain somewhere. We stopped for a night at a spa hotel, at least I think it was a spa hotel as it was done out in a log cabin style.
The hotel had Christmas decorations up everywhere, despite it being July. I got my wife to ask at the reception desk why they had the decorations up, as she speaks good Spanish. After a long conversation which I only understood a tiny amount of, my wife said that they hadn't got round to taking them down and now next Christmas was closer than last Christmas so they figured they'd leave them up.
The next day we drove up to a nice cottage in the mountains, and then the main bit of the holiday seemed to get skipped as we were then heading back home. On the way home we got stuck in a massive traffic jam just by where the spa hotel was. We tried to take a cheeky shortcut through the hotel to bypass the traffic jam, but ended up having to go back and re-join the motorway further back instead of further forward.
When we got back to England we spent some time in London, and while we were staying in the hotel, a travel program was on, which by coincidence featured the spa hotel we had stayed in.
I wandered out of the hotel and down the street, there was a commotion going on and it soon transpired that a lone crazed gunman was on the loose. Before I knew what was going on, I had been shot, but not very badly, the bullet just passed one of my lower ribs.
I climbed into the nearest car to take cover until the ordeal was over. After a few minutes, the driver side door opened and the gunman got in. Apparently he had run out of bullets. He told me how he was going to go down the street and shoot people in certain cars. He then told me he was going to shoot me in this car. I replied that he couldn't do that now as he had no bullets left.
Instead he jabbed his fingers into my bullet wound, causing the most intense pain I've ever experienced in a dream. I writhed around, and in desperation, unleashed a very hard, adrenaline powered headbutt on him.
He reeled backwards, blood pouring from his nose. I reached over him and opened the door, and then kicked him out of it on to the road. I climbed across the seat and got out of the car. He was trying to get up and escape, so I gave him a good, hard kick in the testicles.
He dropped like a cheap hooker's knickers, and I administered another solid kick to the genitals. He looked up and pleaded with me to stop.
"Should have thought of that, before you started shooting people!" I yelled at him, before kicking him in the nuts for a third and fourth time.
At this point, the police came over to apprehend him. I was a bit worried that I'd be in trouble, but they recognised him as the gunman, so I was in the clear. In fact, the police were very thankful for my assistance in apprehending him.
They cuffed him, and before dragging him off, one of the policemen turned to me and said
"Would you like to kick him in the testicles one last time, sir?"
"Yes, thank you officer." I politely replied, before unleashing a proper mule kick to the knackers. He was no longer able to walk.
Freakiness: 8
Nightmare Factor: 7
Amusement Factor: 6
Enjoyability: 5
Coherence: 3
Vividness: 4
Thursday 12 August 2010
Dreamer's Block (Again)
Despite spending a small fortune in the local cheese shop, I'm getting no luck with the dreams at the moment. I've tried, among others, Brie de Meaux and Isle of Mull Cheddar, but it has been a good couple of weeks since I can recall having any dream at all.
The other night I nailed a full 125g of stinking, sticky mature Brie de Meaux, convinced that such a high dose of mature cheese would have me surfing creamy dream waves all night, but in the morning I could not recall anything at all.
I will further arm myself with more cheese at the weekend, and up the dosage.
The other night I nailed a full 125g of stinking, sticky mature Brie de Meaux, convinced that such a high dose of mature cheese would have me surfing creamy dream waves all night, but in the morning I could not recall anything at all.
I will further arm myself with more cheese at the weekend, and up the dosage.
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