Lucid Dreams of Gravy and Semen

Last night I had a dream that wasn’t surreal in terms of imagery but certainly featured a hefty amount of perplexing contextual oddities. After reading a rather awesome blog over the last few years I was surprised to finally have one of the personalities saunter into my dream like John Wayne going into Lidl. All very odd indeed.The dream started – as most of mine tend to at the moment – with me finding myself in a park at night reading a book by the orange glow of a street lamp, the book in question was an almanac containing blog posts from the aforementioned blog in print form allowing me to laugh at the anecdotal hilarity while in a very public place. Of course I *could* have achieved this by using my iPod but I reckon the fact that I was in a park and currently rely on the iPod touch not an iPhone for browsing it would be doubtful that I would have found a wi-fi signal, either way it was a dream, so this is all irrelevant. Anyway, back on track.

So I was in this park reading my book when I noticed someone tall and sporting a tweed/’tach combo striding along the path that I was sitting beside holding two small paper cups. As he got close I vaguely recognised him as the husband/father from the very blog I was readin entries from at that very moment in time. I figured that calling out the name of the tweed/’tach’d fella from the blog/book and he – to my obvious delight – turned a smiled. I asked him what he was doing with the two cups and he explained that one contained a semen sample to be deposited in a local sperm bank, helpfully located in the hospital next to the park. The other cup, inexplicably contained gravy. When I quizzed him about this cup he merely said something about his wife finding it amusing to create some kind of delicate balance.

Either way I decided to head over to the hospital with this odd-fellow and we found it to be bleak and deserted with medical supplies and papers blowing around the car park. We headed inside – despite all the tell-tale signs that while watching a movie you would shout ‘DON’T GO IN THEIR YOU RUDDY IDIOT!’ but as it was a dream, and I was escorting a gravy/semen carrying man the warning signs went unheeded.

Heading inside we found that the reception area had been ransacked, chairs upturned, tables knocked over, pens scattered willy-nilly on the desk – that kind of thing. Stuff that would cause Colin and Justin to rage quit.

We looked at each other in silence. Then I gestured towards the offices. Then a sound of a gun shop rang out. I dropped down to my knees. I was dying.

I looked up at the moustachoid fellow who offered me a choice of cup.

I chose the gravy.

And died.

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