What did I just dream about?
It's five thirty am. I woke up, slightly tired, about an hour ago with inclinations to write a facebook post that some people may or may not deem to be quite funny. I forwent the opportunity, for lack of funny ideas.
Nevertheless, having gone to sleep at about eleven o'clock, I went into a sleep that was themed around the trip to Greece of a young man who happens to be my cousins young son. Said young son has been the subject of my cousin's wife's recent facebook posts, and for some reason they had a small effect on me.
I remember a feeling, last night as I slept, of a type of anxiety, that the boy himself may be having a turbulent time of sorts, at once stage opening my eyes at hallucinating that his image was hovering above my bed and intermingled with the shapes of objects set about the room. Quite, quite unnerving. I hope the boy is fine.
I dreamt about something else meanwhile, but the memory escapes me.
However, the main dream I had, when all turbulence had calmed down, was that I was sitting in my family's living room with my father and a man called Scott who used to be my childhood best friend.
We were watching the world cup on television. Suddenly, my father hands me a beautiful, large silver coin with an intricate design etched into it, based upon the world cup, and in particular, a British coin. The coin is heavy and feels very, very valuable, and my father and I talk about it, and my father watches the football. There is a commentary on.
At one point, with Scott sitting to my left on the settee opposite the television, and my father somehow sitting in front of the television to my right, as like unto a small child, I ask my father what he is thinking. In fact, it is a very pertinent and imposing question, more like a challenge. "Dad," I say. "Are you thinking?"
"Yes," he replies.
"Tell me what you are thinking."
I say this, and then my father starts lucidly and fluently talking, telling me things on his mind. I can see his eyes, bright, brown and clear, and his monologue is fascinating and fulfilling to me.
The coin... now, the coin being very heavy and solid and valuable seems to have been constructed from constituent coins. That is, it seems that one may take the coin apart, for it to be constituted by other smaller coins, and this feature is what has made the coin so heavy and valuable. There is a constituent smaller five pence coin, and another constituent fifty pence coin or ten pence coin, and it feels wonderful to piece it together, like parts of an intricate watch.
Then it seems my father has had a revelation and wants to do a piece of writing. For inspiration he asks me to talk - to "Just say anything!" And so I start talking and do so fluently and clearly, and whatever I say seems to cause my father to engage in writing his letter a bit better.
But he seems to be struggling a little. Struggling, I say, in the same way that I myself may have struggled to write a letter in the heyday of my religious inspiration. That is, my father keeps restarting his letter, and crossing things out, and rewriting them. Well, it is and isn't like that. Effectively, my father writes a paragraph, and he addresses it to me, and everything he writes is perfect. It is humorous, succinct and pertinent, although with a few crossings-out. It is inspiring, and makes me wish to write a funny post on facebook.
Then Scott also begins to write. It seems the theme of the dream scene is writing, and Scott is also writing me a letter, and he writes it in his own style - mainly humorous, in his own humour - and he says some very funny things. It makes me a little jealous, truth be told.
I had an idea, then, to wake up and write a humorous post on facebook, that spoke on the theme of "How to write a funny post on Facebook, at a moment's notice!"
Well, that post did not come to fruition. Nevertheless, this one did.
I hope you have a good day.