On Saturday morning I dreamed I had captured Dick Cheney and tied him to a chair located on the rear veranda of a house in Northcote I've never seen before. I was planning to kill him, except that I was overcome with guilt/remorse/oh the humanity of it all, and chucked the AK47 I was carrying into a strangely flooded Merri Creek. I wonder what this means?
On Sunday afternoon I went to see the film Kokoda, in which I saw someone splattered with Angus Sampson's brain, a scene I found slightly disturbing, as I know Angus through Triple R, and really didn't need to see what the inside of his head looks like...
Catching a tram home on Friday, heading up Collins Street towards Parliament, I had a sudden flashback to a wet, windy, rainy night in 1990, when I was working at the Victorian AIDS Council, and had walked into the city, my greatcoat flapping like wings behind me, to see a Comedy Festival show. The wild weather exhilarated me and I laughed with my face tilted up into the rain; the streets were deserted; and it felt so good to be alive.
1 comment:
...and you said you don't have strange dreams.
maybe it means that you've finally relaised the age of aquarius has truly come.
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