Bad Dreams

For as long as I can remember though I’ve been suffering from really bad dreams. Not the sort where you find yourself being systematically disemboweled by hordes of bloodthirsty zombies etc., but bad as in really arse-crunchingly boring ones.

Many of my dreams are concerned with everyday humdrum events as ironing shirts or going shopping, or just going about my uneventful business without anything outlandish happening. I dreamt I was in a zoo the other night with my good lady wife and our two kids. Nothing really happened; we saw some monkeys and sea lions, and even met some of the keepers. Which was nice. Then I woke up.

Last night’s was a bit of a break from the norm though: I dreamt was helping Shakin’ Stevens incorporate a Direct Debit facility on his website. I know Shaky hasn’t released a single for many a year and any kind of facility to purchase his music online is wildly optimistic on his part given his dated style and limited appeal to the modern listener. In addition, I’m not a programmer and wouldn’t have a clue how to go about it anyway.

The jury’s out as to what dreams actually are and what their purpose is, though Freud’s theory that every dream is a journey into the unconscious which reveals our deepest desires is arguably the most popular. However, despite the lack of any better explanation, I’m still disinclined to believe him. I certainly have no desire to help Welsh ‘80s rockabilly pop stars create transactional websites, especially given my other half’s schoolday daydreams already documented in this blog. Believe me, a resurgence in his public profile is the last thing I want, lest he tempt my better half away by flinging open his “green doors” and exhibiting his trademark hot-shoe-shuffle. I fear she’d be powerless to resist…