Had a rather strange dream last night…

Up the street from where I grew up is the Terminus.  The Terminus is a strip of shops which sprung up along side the old tram terminus stop in Carina.  The shops were very practical initially  – butcher, banks, bakery, newsagent, pharmacy, fish and chip shop,  habadasherer etc…. but once the trams disappeared and most people drive to the really large shopping centres for their groceries etc the Terminus shops underwent a change.  The butcher closed, the habadasherer closed and so on and so forth eventually most of the street became over run by real estate agents.  Lately a few weird shops have turned up there… a swordmaster (selling recreationist gear) and more recently a tattoo shop.  I’ve been meaning to stick my head into the tattoo shop when it’s open to see who was there as when I went past there a couple of weeks ago (when it was closed) and I saw a whole pile of GD tattoo flash on the walls…. Gary was an old friend who did two of my tattoos back when I was in my teens.  I haven’t seen him for years and would really love to catch up with him again.

Anyway in my dream I was up the Terminus looking for new houses – because that is where all the local real estate agents are!  I was looking for a new house because the air con in our house is causing some watermarks on the ceiling (condensation from the fairly extreme humidity here)  and in my dream, rather than get someone in to remedy the watermarked problem, we had decided to sell the bloody house instead and move to Canberra ?!?!  Go figure.  

So I’m window shopping for a new house to buy in Canberra at the Carina shops (!?!?) when I decided to go into the tattoo shop which was open (every time I’ve actually been past it’s been closed).  I walk in the door and my old fried Gary is there and we greet each other warmly and spend a few hours chatting.  While we’re talking he changes the mushroom tattooed on my right foot from being a purple coloured mushroom proper (kinda) into a red coloured mushroom that looks like a Nintentdo Mario mushroom (obviously there’s been too much Wii in the house since Christmas).  We’re talking away and suddenly he says: "Do you remember when I asked you to marry me?" and I replied fondly with a smile "Yes I remember that very clearly… and I also remember the Corvette sized engagement ring!"  He suddenly got down on his knee and looked at me very seriously saying "I still have your Corvette Borys if you want it… and me."   Very strange.

Back when I was 19, Gary proposed to me and in lieu of a traditonal engagement ring he wanted to give me his 1972 Corvette Stingray because he thought "I’d look great in it".  Anyway in my dream after his comments above some time seemed to pass though I don’t recall with what or how long… but suddenly I was married to Gary and he’d taught me to do tattoo work and we were working together in the tattoo shop and I was practising on all my friends when I woke up.

Tres strange …
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Had another weird arse dream last night…. oy!

i was out at the shopping centre (Carindale?) with Mr K and he led me into a shop.  It was a lingerie shop that had no style about it whatsoever… there was no signage, no store displays and merchandise was just laying about on pallet racking,   It looked like a Bunnings Hardware Warehouse but with lingerie thrown about on the shelves.

Mr K told me with a magnanimous wave that the shop was all mine to run and that I had to work there because he had put all our money into it as a surprise.  I stood there like a stunned mullet for a bit and when I regained my composure I told him that there have been three failed lingerie stores in that centre and they didn’t look like a hardware store.  I then dragged him around the mall to the other lingerie store in the place that was all lush and fabulously laid out with immaculate window displays, elegant signage and classy retail layout.  I told him that this was the competition and there’s no way the lingerie shop he bought would sell anything compared to this.

But Mr K said ‘Ah-ha’ with a knowing smile and said that we would be selling more than just lingerie!  He then pulled out of his pocket a brown piece of coconut shell about the size of his palm which had been defuzzed, polished up and then painted with acrylics with a tacky tropical beach picture on it.  He told me that my little sister had been painting them and that everyone absolutely loved them and we were going to sell heaps of them in my store!!   … and I was standing there looking at him like he’d lost his marbles when I woke up.

Jaysis, merry and jozeff!!  What the hell was that all about!

I had an awful dream last night and I woke up this morning feeling alarmed and distraught.  It’s not to hard to dissect from where I sit, but I want to write it down as it is a pretty good indicator of what my nightly pharmaceutical cocktail has been doing to my dream/thought patterns and sleep habits.

I was upstairs in a store that I worked in selling musical instruments (which I have never done in my life knowing very little about music and playing instruments in general) and there was a floor to ceiling window that overlooked the street.  The store and the window reminded me of looking out the windows at Borders or David Jones in down town Brisbane, but the street below looked more like a regular row of town houses in any suburb on London (attached houses with a shared roofline and short useless front fences that don’t really divide their occupants from their neighbours at all).

There was two pregnant women standing beside each other on the doorstep/stoop of the townhouse directly across the street from the shop window where I was looking down on the scene.  A man about two doors over who (I am reluctant to say) was dressed in the typical shalwar kameez style prevalent on the subcontinent or southern Asia is what we call it now I guess.  He was staring at the two heavily pregnant (western attired) women in a palpably menacing way and I felt like I had to do something but I didn’t know what.

They ambos and cops muscled me away from the women and told me to go back to work.  When I rentered the building, it was no longer a musical instrument shop but was BigSal and Surly’s pizza store where I was greeted by one of the managers (a young man of particularly sour disposition) who told me I was covered in blood and I should go out back and clean myself up before I could return to work making pizza.  I went out the back door (where I have never been in real life) and was confronted by a dozen angry customers who were all yelling at me demanding that I do something about the extremely profane and offensive graffitti that was all over the back wall of the pizza shop.

So what have I learned from my horrible dream?

Don’t let strangers upset you by talking about miscarriage.
Don’t fight with Nieman Marcus anymore over designer handbag debarcle.
Call the Homemake Center and have them deal with "LAURIES R GAY CUNTS" graffitti*.
I’m obviously sick of BigSal and Surly’s pizza
Oh… and it’s probably not wise to mix up my drugs at bed time.

I had a dream (why did that just resonate through my head like Martin Luther King) last night or rather in the early hours this morning that was rather… unusual to say the least. 

I was trying to scramble up a cargo net like you do on a confidence course, and I kept falling down.  Not because I couldn’t do it physically but rather because the ‘Aristocracy’ or the ‘Bureaucracy’ were at the top of the cargo net and they kept pulling my fingers off the net and stamping on my hands and pushing my head down to stop me climbing the damn cargo net.  And the reason they were trying to kick me off the cargo net? 

I’m not 100% sure but I think it had something to do with global economics and impending global grain and food shortages. 

*blink. blink.*   WTF Mate????

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