Weird dreams…

For the last two nights I have very odd dreams – also unusual in that I actually remembered them fairly clearly, probably because I woke up a couple of times in the middle of the night, slightly discombobulated for a few moments sitting up in the dark with the dream still foremost in my mind, before becoming awake enough to realise it was just a dream. Then back to sleep and the dream continues – similarly when I actually woke up the dream was still running through my head.

Last night for some peculiar reason I dreamed I was making a documentary – said documentary involved, for no obvious reason I can think of, old folk artists the Alexander Brothers who we were filming on a kayak expedition. This kayak expedition started along the Scottish coast but soon moved inland where, due to severe floods, the towns nearby had been utterly flooded and we all paddled our canoes through the streets and, at several points, right through several houses, paddling along halls and into someone’s deluged living room, filming the brothers discussing climate change and the pleasures of both sea and the new urban kayaking in Scotland.

Edinburgh Canal Festival 2012 013

No, I have no idea where this came from, I haven’t been in a canoe since I was in the Boy’s Brigade at an outdoor centre (and that wasn’t yesterday!) and quite why this documentary was about the Alexander Brothers and kayaks I have no idea…

The night before that I dreamed my work told me that they were expanding the store above into the basement, so my desk down under the depths of the Bridges had to be moved even deeper down. I was taken on a long walk down a dark tunnel even deeper into the undercity below, where after a good half hour’s walk from my old desk we came to a floodlit area in one of the deep stone tunnels. It’s a bit of a walk to your desk, I’m afraid, they told me, then also added that I would have to put up with some noise and coming and going as there was an archaeological excavation going on just a few feet from where they had set up my desk. When I woke up in the middle of the night the dream was so strong in my head I was sitting there for a few moments thinking I’m not letting them treat me like this, must call my union rep… Oh, hold on, dream… And like last night, when I fell asleep again the same dream ran again. Not unusual for me to have odd dreams, we all have those, and the amount I read it’s not surprising I get a lot of them, but very unusual to remember them so clearly well into waking. And really, what the smeg was the canoeing through houses with a pair of old folk musician documentary about??


Is it strange to dream about the battle of Ticonderoga (the 1777 battle; there were numerous fights at this fort)? Is it strange to dream about that battle enacted entirely with penguins? Emperor penguins in red coats playing the Imperial British forces and Rockhopper penguins standing in for the American revolutionaries? Ah well, who wants boring dreams?


For about the third time in a month I’ve had dreams with recurring characters. As is often the case most of it evaporates away on waking (Coleridge moaned about this as well, but at least he got some of it down on paper). However I do recall in all three there were giants wandering around Edinburgh. All I can recall of the latest one was that two of the giants were sitting in Princes Street Gardens, below the Castle and they were playing chess using cars picked up from the street as the pieces. I have a vague recollection of them using cannonballs from the Castle for a game of marbles.

After paying my five cents to Lucy (‘the psychiastrist is in’) I was informed that the latter was indicative of me losing my marbles, which is a damned lie since I know full well they are in the drawer in my study, right behind some elastic bands and a dried up Pritt Stick. Trying to find important papers like bank statements is always problematic since I put them somewhere ‘safe’ and can’t find them when needed. But my marbles? Oh, I know just where they are.

The giants-cars-chess thing stumped Lucy however and she went off to badger poor Schroeder. Had the dream been in high-contrast, moodily-lit black and white it may have been a surreal dream homage to the Seventh Seal, but it wasn’t. It may have indicated some deep-seated anxiety or it may be that it’s just the way my mind works even when it is sleeping (I lock the bedroom door now to make sure that if my subconcious gets loose at night it can’t go too far. Besides I don’t want the cats chasing it). Or it could be my sleeping mind working out which way to vote on the referendum on congestion charging in the city or the lack of available parking (free parking if you allow your car to be used as a chess piece for giants).

I wonder what cars were being used as the various pieces? I don’t recall that detail. Presumably something small but reliable for the pawns, like a Mini. The king is probably a Bentley and I reckon the knights would be in something posh but fast, like an Aston Martin. What the smeg would the bishop be? Would Humvees stand in for the rooks? And will tonight bring a dream of the giants playing pool using huge rocks and some Scots Pines?