Friday, 10 August 2012

Dream 76

I was in PC's (my nan) Sheringham home, sitting on the main sofa in the living-room. It was evening and the curtains were drawn and the lights on brightly. The television was turned on, just in front of me, but I could not see the screen clearly - just flashing lights and blurry images, as if my eyes were not properly focused on it. There was activity going on behind me - members of my family were talking and doing various things in the kitchen, and at the table, but I was not turning round to see who was present, and the voices were non-distinguishable. My primary feeling was that I was sitting, engrossed in my own thoughts, whilst other people went about their business, forming only a slight background distraction. I had a mobile phone in my hand - it was not my own real-life phone, but rather was large, with a square screen, which seemed permanently white and lit up, with big icons. I could not see the keypad, so it must have been a touch-screen phone. I was texting PP. The texts I sent were really long and I kept forgetting certain pieces of information, or things I wanted to tell him, and would have to send a further text. This kept going on - I think that he was replying by text, but I am not sure. A long time was spent texting. I was somehow aware - by text? I do not recall finding out by a text - that PP was coming to the UK and wanted to meet. I was pleased, as I had not seen him in a long while. I imagined a large white airport and wondered if he had bought anything from the duty-free. I then got a text from PP - the reason I was unsure if he had texted me before this point, and whether I had received any text message until now was because seeing this text from PP come through made me really excited. I didn't 'read' the text - I couldn't see the words, but it 'read out' in my mind. It said: "Instead of sending 6 texts, just send one, or my wife will get suspicious. I will see you in a day".

I got up from the sofa and walked into another room - not a room which exists in real-life. It was a 'drawing room' with white walls and black floors/ceilings. There was nothing in the room, but a black grand piano up against the wall. An old man (tall and thin; very rigid and straight-backed; long bony limbs; could not see his hair or face properly) in a top hat and tails was playing the piano. As I got closer, walking slowly towards him, from behind, I noticed the black piano was actually creamy-white. I could not hear the actual music the man was playing on the piano, but the lyrics to Elvis Presley, Suspicious Minds (1969) were floating in the air above the piano keys/hands of the pianist, in big, block capital letters - white, with the appearance of being three-dimensional. I watched this, unquestioningly, for a moment, then looked across the room. There was a huge bay window on the other side of the room, through which I could see daylight and a plant-filled garden. I thought: 'This is the hospice, it's time to leave now' - but it was as if my thoughts were vocalised (in my voice) into the room, not merely inside my head. The pianist did not react, but simply continued playing the piano. 

I was the standing behind a male character, in an exterior scene. It seemed as if the male character was 'on holiday' - he was sitting on a sun lounger, outside a bar, and the sun was hot and bright. The bar was dark and cool and noisy with the sound of customers drinking and having fun. As I approached the male, getting closer to the back of his sun lounger I had the sensation of leaving cool darkness and coming into stark light. I could see the male was a young adult - he was wearing a white 'wife-beater' vest and had brown hair - but this is all I could see of his appearance. I am not sure if I knew him in the dream or not - it did not seem so. I seemed quite disconnected from the scene, as if I was a passive observer, and no-one paid any attention to me. The brown-haired male had a laptop computer. I looked at his screen to see what he was looking at. There were paparazzi photographs of Katy Perry, in a yellow, frilly bikini, lying on a sun lounger. She was pregnant. The website was breaking the story to the public, tabloid-style - i.e. 'Katy Perry is Pregnant! Exclusive Pictures!' The male on the sun lounger still paid no attention to me as I stood behind him, watching his laptop screen. Suddenly, the photograph of Katy Perry on the screen began to move, as if it were a video. She stood up and got off the sun lounger she had been lying on and walked off-screen. I was no longer standing behind the male on the sun lounger outside the bar, but was in the interier of a building. It was vast, dark and dusty, with a ceiling stretching up perhaps 30 feet, and a floor which was bare wooden floorboards. There were lots of spotlights and stage equipment and I got the impression I was backstage at a theatre or venue of some sort. I was standing about six feet away from Katy Perry, who was now wearing a silver glittery mini-dress and high-heeled sandals. There was a tall (perhaps 20 foot) column in the middle of the backstage area - it had a small platform at the top. It appeared to be made of pale brown wood - with gaps visible at certain points. Katy Perry climbed the column, even though I did not see any stairs or way of getting to the top. Once on the platform at the top, she swan-dived, head-first down to the ground. There was no safety equipment or crash mats to protect her, but somehow she landed perfectly on her feet, right next to me. She looked at me and smiled, then bowed. I could hear shouts and cheers of applause from her entourage and tour crew and I realised that she had been practicing for her stage performance. I woke up.

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