EDitorial ± 17-Oct-2005

The Night Is Jung

Adventurer, petty thief, historical sleuth and neglecter of children: that's me.

Before too many of you begin to nod vigourously, I'm obliged to point out that this is not daytime EFB, IT consultant to the stars, but nighttime EFB, Johnny LateToBed and seeker of truths. See, these past four nights --- Thurs, Fri, Sat & Sun --- have each yielded a dream (or snippet thereof) that's stayed with me. So, it's access all areas as we psink into my psyche:

Thursday: The DreamMe and a friend, not sure who, are sliding (sledging?) down Valley Road at quite a lick, on the tarmac, and trying to head right along Norwich Road across the double mini roundabout. But we're going too fast and end up outside the Inkerman pub, unharmed. A great feeling of exhilaration ensues. Perhaps we do this repeatedly.

Thursday: Analysis
I do zoom down this very hill most days on my bike, sometimes faster than others. There was one time when I wondered what would happen if I fell, given the speed, but that was a one-off. Mostly I freewheel, though sometimes I pedal to keep up the momentum: whee!

I know that I was part of the way through a Jamie Oliver profile before I went to sleep, and he was talking about taking risks. Maybe it was me & the face of Sainsury's going full throttle in search of new thrills. Maybe it was me & Jools? Top pukka fun any way, and a dream I'd happily dive under the duvet to have again.

Friday: The Dream
So there's me and my friend Bill at a football match. Only we seem to be somewhere that's more like a check-in desk, and there's a pile of cash in front of us: we take the money, knowing it's not ours. At much the same time someone scores and runs near us to celebrate. We quickly depart but leave behind some Dolly Mixtures. I worry about what we've done --- why oh why oh why --- and am concerned that the match highlights on telly will show us in the act. And there's pictures in the newspaper of the sweets.

Friday: Analysis
I awoke feeling very guilty before the relief hit me: it wasn't real and the police weren't going to track me down like a dog. Haven't yet checked whether Bill had a similar night vision. I was already blaming him for making me do it. Nothing pre-meditated about the crime, Officer, no need to send me away.

Guilt's a common theme in dreams, is it not? That and personal nakedness. Not sure which particular thing I haven't yet done was at the heart of this episode, but I did run through my ToDo list pretty carefully later that day.

Saturday: The Dream
Persons unknown and myself are solving a series --- perhaps three --- of riddles, like a Da Vinci deal. Ultimately we find a mysterious box with The Boy's name on it, and which contains a seemingly dead spider... which twitches and then comes to life. I realise, all too late, that fate decrees that this arachnid will get me in the end, but the cats (Misty & Snowy) chase it away. For some reason I'm then trying to key in a password on a computer screen, which I get wrong, when I realise that the spider is crawling up my arm...

Saturday: Analysis
Have you ever shaken the covers when you dream about creepy-crawlies? That was me on Sunday morning: ugh. I was disappointed not to remember more of this since it struck me as a great storyline with a good twisty ending, solving clues along the way. Those spider legs were protruding from the corners of the box, and there was that cliched reanimation moment.

It was an unusual touch to have the cats on my side for a change, since I'm not their biggest fan. Perhaps they wanted a quick word with the spider: "Go on, appear to run away, then go back and bite him when he's got his back turned!" Those treacherous mogs!

Sunday: The Dream
I'm visiting brother-in-law and borrowing various items, maybe DVDs. I leave with one of his sons by crawling through a bedside cabinet, emerging on to a street somewhere. But when I stand up, there's no sign of the boy. There's a gaggle of kids leaving school, all brightly dressed, but the son, who was in my care, has vanished without a trace. I ask around but nobody's seen him, until this old man asks if I've lost a 12 year old boy: yes, I reply. But that happened years ago!, says the strange man.

Sunday: Analysis
Most disturbing of the lot, this one. The crawling exit reminds me of a scene from Being John Malkovich. And that interaction with the weird old man, who appeared to question my sanity, was like an unexpected turn of events from Lost. And isn't there a new-ish Jodie Foster film where she loses her child and nobody believes her?

There we have it, a quartet of vignettes from my bizarro world. An imaginative director could go to town with this material, switching from adrenalin highs to guilt-ridden self-doubt.

Guess what: it's now bedtime. I'll be happy not to remember tonight's mini adventures, esp. if they feature a story heard of BBC R5 earlier tonight about a 10ft snake that's just been caught in the sewerage system of a block of flats. Sweet dreams, y'all.