Monday, 5 November 2012

Waking up from a really good dream is like winning the mother of all poker matches, and then an earthquake starts and you're trying to keep all the chips on the table, but they just keep rolling away :/
                I had a really good Sandman dream. The setting was very Gaiman – it was all even happening in the comic book mood, what with dark inking in white linings … The story started sometime right after he’s decided to kill himself. He and his freak sister close by had to make a round through the night time city, (late autumn, but warm, southern wind blowing), paying a visit to all the people he owed to. These were some odd, some fishy characters that Murphy once took favors from. I was tagging along, but was happy it wasn't me who had to talk to them. As it turned out, almost all of these people didn’t want money or health or power or anything – they all had some sort of teenage love that they had lost and they wanted a dream of that feeling again. Of that feeling of being too young to know how terrible life is and still thing the most terrifying thing in the world is taking the girl’s hand. The story took us though underground ferry stations, fast food restaurants in Manchester suburbs, busy, movie-like scenes. And old men's youthful dreams. The last one was at a dark churchyard owned by some fat, mean enterpreneur, but as we went inside into his chamber, all he really wanted was to see his governess from when he was a kid, one last time. We went into that dream, into a memory of a hug, and it felt very happy.
              After Murphy was done settling his debts, his triggerhappy sister piggybacked his soul into ascension on various dead things that were going up at the time. I think he caught a cat or some such. 

                 Gotta give it to the old fart. He makes the best dreams about himself :D