June 2nd, 2004

Dreams

I woke up in the middle of the night with a momentous dream still playing in my head. I then thought about it a good deal before finally getting back to sleep. Now I've forgotten it. Rats!

I have occasionally kept dream diaries. My last attempt was about a year ago. I'd been reading a book about lucid dreaming- you know; where you get to realise you're dreaming and can control the action- and I thought this sounds like a heap of fun. Keeping a diary was the first step on the the road to lucidity. But fun is exactly what it was not. Scribbling in pencil in a darkened room the moment you wake up is definitely not fun. So I abandoned the project after a night or two.

I resent spending half my life unconscious. I want to bring something back with me out of the dark. But I don't want it that much. I'm too lazy to put in the work.

My dreams are rarely that interesting anyway. There are certain scenarios I revisit over and over again. Favourite venues are bookshops, toyshops and churches.

* * * * *

Writing is a kind of lucid dreaming. Especially fiction writing. My stories usually start with a single image. I pay attention to it and things start to happen. People appear. They say things. A world takes shape. I'm not one of those people who maps a plot out in detail beforehand. No, I form a vague idea of the terrain I want to cover and then I set out in faith. I like to go through a door and not know what's on the other side.

The Cross of St. George

The streets are full of the Cross of St George (the English flag- red cross on a white ground.) It's plastered up in windows and it's flying from cars. I'm told this is because of some football thingy that's happening in Europe.  craftyailz  and I were saying how it made us feel uncomfortable because up until a few years back the Cross of St George was only flown by churches and far-right  groups like the National Front and The British National Party.  

I guess it's good that footie fans have wrenched the English  flag from the hands of the fascists. But to tell the truth any flag waving makes me nervous.  It's infantile;  it's divisive; it has no place in civilian life.  Flags belong on battlefields.