My dreams are getting stranger

I woke up on Saturday having dreamed that I was hanging out with Rage Against The Machine and being directly exposed to Tom Morello's gigantic balls, by which I mean they were of sufficient magnitude to inspire bewilderment at the prospect of everyday perambulation, which is an unnecessarily stupid way of saying they were really fucking big, but whatever. I felt I had no alternative but to attempt to write a song about this and was busking my way through a preliminary chord sequence with the guys, all getting really enthusiastic and "wow new direction awesome but i could still totally toggle my pickup switch over this to help ease the true believers into it"-type comments were thick and fast, but then I hit a diminished 7th chord and suddenly everyone went really quiet and they were all looking at their shoes and I put the guitar down quietly as Bob Hoskins entered in a suit and put a hand on my shoulder and said "I think you'd better leave, son,". He said it kindly, but I could tell I had made a major transgression. Like one of those fuck-ups you make which is so severe that for minutes afterwards all you can bring yourself to do is breathe.

Last night was relatively straightforward. I dreamt The Royal Tenenbaums, which I have not actually seen, and I'm inclined to say that my version was better. Highlights included:

• Gene Hackman as Royal Tenenbaum waking up to find the front end of a greyhound growing from his abdomen.


• Supporting role for Richard Hell as an alcoholic contract killer (assigned to snipe Chas' creepy kids) who just can't get it together and winds up on a tramp steamer headed for Lisbon with a stolen suitcase full of cash.


• A long sequence with Margot crying, cooking stir-fry to cheer herself up and crying into her wok, spooning out a lavish bowlful of gorgeous-looking food which she then proceeds to throw out after taking one bite, destroying her telephone by hitting a wall with it, taking a bath and then a shower, then towelling herself off and finally dressing in a leisure suit and playing Super Smash Bros. by herself, all tracked to "The Long Medley" from side two of Abbey Road.


• With SSB match-victory animation sequences over the guitar solos, a cut to the following day as she exits her townhouse in a jogging suit over "and in the end...", and finally a crane shot pulling back over the rich-and-liberal part of the city on an immaculate fall morning over the final orchestral crescendo.


• End credits roll over "We're Alright Til Then" by Jonathan Kelly.