My eyes!

I woke up in the middle of the most ridiculous dream this morning – which is not so surprising under the circumstances, but it took me off guard nonetheless.  About two months before my last trip, my GP sent me to an ophthalmologist* to discuss an issue I’ve been having for years with my peripheral vision, and today I’m supposed to go in for a minor surgery that will hopefully fix the problem… only fucking hell, I’ve been freaking out for about it for weeks because, well,  some guy I’ve met for about 15 minutes is going to taking a knife to my eyes!

So the dream… I was at the hospital waiting to go in for this procedure and the nursing staff are all bustling around being efficient but rather cheerless.  It’s Monday morning, so I guess you can’t ask too much.  I’m waiting for the ophthalmologist to turn up and do his little pre-procedure chat, but he seems to be taking his time.  I am rather unhappy about just waiting… not looking forward to this, I just want to get it over with.   And then he finally turns up.  He takes some sort of mask with a viewer on it, puts it over my eyes, looks into it, then stands up and shakes his head and says ‘No wonder.’  No other context, but I’m immediately concerned.  I ask him, ‘What’s wrong?’, but he ignores me and starts filling out some paperwork.

I then notice that he has another person with him, a well-dressed man in a suit, who seems a little out of place in a hospital pre-op ward.  It takes me a while to notice that it is Eddie Izzard, and I say to him, ‘What are you doing here?’  He introduces himself, I tell him that I know who he is.  He says he is here to ‘observe’, and points to his own eyes, and I understand from the gesture that he needs the same procedure’.  I said, ‘Like hell you are!  I don’t need the surgeon distracted by some celebrity in the room, while he’s taking to my eyes with a knife!  I’ll end up fucking enucleated!’

Eddie Izzard says, ‘Huh?’
The surgeon says, ‘Why do you even know that word?’
I think, ‘At least he is acknowledging that I’m here…’  :/

I then have Eddie Izzard telling me how busy his schedule is, and asking if he could please stay and watch the procedure.  I respond, ‘What’s in it for me?’  His demeanour alters immediately, his body language stiffens up and he says deadpan, ‘I’ll give you a thousand pounds if I can stay, I really am very busy and can’t reschedule.’  I scoff a little, and say, ‘I don’t want your money… I want to come to London for a weekend, so you can take me to the shop with the banjoes and the guns. Maybe we can buy some charcoal and jam…’

He laughs out loud and says, ‘That must be the weirdest shakedown ever.  Let’s make it a week.’  We shake hands and he promises to sit quietly and not disturb the ophthalmologist… and I wake up.

I have no idea what is going on there.  The subsconscious is a truly bizarre place.

*TIL… I do not know how to spell ophthalmologist, no matter how many times I type it.

The art thieves, they come in the night.

Last night I had the worst night’s sleep I’ve had in ages, as I tossed and turned until nearly 2am.  Not to mention the weirdest dream as I woke up at 6:30am…

Myself and my friend Crumpetty were stealing a whole pile of art from a Veronese art museum, I have no idea *how* I knew it was a Veronese art museum, because as it happens I have never been to Verona!  But we were definitely cleaning out a Veronese art museum of all it’s decorative art pieces – statuary, antiques, reliquaries and things, but no paintings.   We were putting it all into a courtyard at my old high school to put on display – yes stealing it to put on display for the public to view, pretty clever art thieves, huh!  There were no authorities to be found anywhere and Crumpetty and I were just discussing the merits of each piece we were stealing and how much we liked them, or not.

We had our burly male friends carrying heavy marble statues out of the musuem and another arty friend Danzig was there, telling me there is a whole cult of women who absolutely adore this one particular statue of Io (of Jupiter and Io fame) that we were stealing – he was a huge reclining marble Io, with a gold helm and spear?! and we were taking him out of the large sandstone museum in Verona on one side of the road and putting him down on the other side of road in a courtyard in Australia.  And another friend, Surly, was casually walking across the road with Cellini’s Salt Cellar, telling people he could make one just like it, and it was just sooo bizarre!

My mother was also there and she was all jealous that I had seen crazy Roentgen’ Berlin Secretary Cabinet at the Metropolitan of Art, and wished that she had seen it while she was there too?!?  And then I woke up!

And the weirdest thing about all this… to the best of my knowledge, none of these pieces are in museums in Verona.


Ticket dream

Had a bad dream this morning…

I was leaving Carindale shopping centre ON FOOT, and had to hand my car park ticket to someone in a little booth in order to leave.  Not sure whether it is noteworthy or not, but there are no little booth bitches at Carindale shopping centre… just machines where you stick it in the slot?!

Anyway, I found myself in an argument with the booth bitch, because I didn’t have my ticket… it was somehow at home?!  And she was insisting that I retrieve my ticket in order to be allowed to exit the complex ON FOOT and for some reason not seeing that in order to retrieve said ticket, I needed to exit the complex!  I tried logic and reason, then switched to wheedling and cajoling, then switched to abuse and accusations.  The whole thing was absurd!  I was getting so wound up and pissed off at this officious and ineffectual, intellectual Lilliputian for insisting I get my ticket to give to while whilst simultaneously refusing to let me leave in order to get said ticket!

Eventually I turned on my heel, went to an entrance to the complex (walking past several places of direct and easy escape!?!), fetched a new ticket from the entrance machines and walked back to the booth bitch handing her a ticket time stamped just a few seconds earlier, at which point she happily did her thing and let me walk out.  Go figure.

Reminds me of the day I had trouble with the Nasty Arse Power Mongering Dumb Ass Bitch of a carpark Nazi in Roma Street when I was working for The Devil.   Situation was just so nonsensical, it defies park booth nightmareWoke up feeling awful, teeth clenched, ears hurting, hands in fists, muscles all tense.  Strangely enough while there is explanations up the wa-hoo for dreams with associated feelings of being trapped or sensations of futility… I couldn’t find any online dream analyses for Nasty Power Mongering Dumb Ass Car Park Booth Bitch nightmares.   😛


I know how they feel…

Whoa!  Stillnox vs Valium debate is still raging.  The Stillnox seems a way better knock out pill than the old faithful Valium, but it doesn’t have the same muscle relaxant properties so if I take if for a few days running, I end up exacerbating my lockjaw problem and my muscle spasm tendencies. 

In the meantime I’m having some really fucked up dreams!  This morning’s effort revolved around some old friends who I am not really in touch with any more, furtive encounters behind their wives backs and them worrying about being found out?!  Weird stuff, I was being pulled back and forth between these two guys whom I haven’t seen in years. One was at a holiday house on an island and constantly pushing me into a back room mid conversation, and the other was frequently jumping out of bed at his place when he heard something, looking around guiltily for pants and closing the door on me as he left the room… and both of them were trying to hide me from their wives!  But while they were trying to hide me from their wives, they kept confronting each other, saying they wanted to ‘keep’ me (it puts the lotion on its skin!), and no one bothered to ask what I wanted in regards to the matter!

Ahuh.  Not sure which drug is better, but so far the Stilnox dreams are weird but definitely not as creepy as the Valium dreams.

alice in wonderland dorothy wizard of oz