My life, the people in it and any other shit I decide to throw at you.

Friday, 15 February 2008

When the Rain Washes You Clean

I slept very very heavy last night. The alarm went off, Dan got up and got ready and I didnt notice. And now, i could quite happily go back to that deep, undisturbed slumber. Which isnt great when you have a lot to do.
Some highlights from the nights dreams.
Watching a violent sea storm from a (non existant) building in Cardiff Bay through an open view point. One large wave swept in and washed Shirley Bassey down into the toilets. I went down and carried her up, but her 12 year old son was washed away. She was distraught for a few seconds than got over it. We were resecued by the Stargate SG1 team. Ben Browder had an alien belt that had 10 lines attached to it. We all took one and attched the gold rings to our own belts and he flew us out of there.
Stopping at an old post office type shop, I had a large group of birds come up to me. A swan took my arm in its beak and although I couldnt feel it, I couldnt get it back either. It let go eventually.
The shop didnt want the birds in there, so I had to barely open the doors to get in and then everything in there was old and dusty. I was served by a young lad. I had a dairy milk ice cream that needed dusting and cost £1.10. I gave him the right money but he gave me 60p back saying I had mis heard the price. His mother had a surgical mask on, but I could see a giant eye peering out of a rip in it, where her mouth should have been and she had really bad chin hair. As I left the geese and swans got in.
Dan & I had bought my dads old house in Enderby Road, Luton (no 30 if you ever fancy a gander at a large part of my life ages 9 - 17. Had & gave my first bj in the living room there!). The previous occupants had tried to drain the swimming pool by demolishing the patio and letting the water run out into the garden. I was devastated. I was looking at the wall my dad had a large mural on (it was a famous painting ... dunno which one mind, just had lots of Cavalier type men on it) and thinking that it looked a bit rough but would be great for shelves, when my Dad and his next eldest son (Aaron, I dont see much of him, but then I am not the one who came to Cardiff for a weekend and didnt make contact with my brother despite dad giving me his two e-mail addresses and mobile number, but thats not for here) and we started talking about the state of the kitchen.
And this was without eating cheese. Taramasalata makes you weird kids. Stick to the crack.


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