Dreams are a funny old thing in that there is nothing more dull than listening to someone else’s dream but every time I have what I consider to be an “interesting” one I feel the need to tell people about it. Many people. In great detail. Despite the glazed look in their eyes.
The problem is, of course, that it is exactly the same things that make the dreams so “interesting” to the people having them that makes them so boring for others to listen to - they don’t make any sense...
“And then my arms sort of became flags…”
“Yeah, yeah and so…”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Oh I know but it sort of did at the time.”
“Where are you going? You won’t believe what happened next…”
Last night I had a dream that my mother was trying to kill me. The entire family was in on it and holding me hostage. I had to keep making excuses to go the toilet and fishing my mobile phone out from my boot (where I had hidden it) to text my friend and get her to call the cops. For an unknown reason all the action also took place at my friend’s new house in Leeming.
This would be a bloody fascinating story if it had actually happened. I mean, I’m pretty sure that if my family did try to murder me a few people would be keen to hear the story. But as a dream? It’s not much of a story. How do explain to someone else the chilling way my mother explained to me that I had to die when it’s all my my mind? I just can’t and there’s no point anyway because nobody really cares about other people’s dreams. It’s sad but true.
And I’m just as bad. I have a real tendency to tune out when I hear about people’s brushes with their subconscious the night before. My attitude is that, unless it actually happened or the person involved in a psychic I don’t give that much of a toss. Oh unless it involved both me and James Franco obviously. In that case full details and a few illustrative sketches are encouraged.