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Infinite Dreams
Mar. 31st, 2006 10:18 amDreams are only supposed to go on for a few seconds, I believe, but sometimes it's possible to have dreams that seem to go on the entire night. And what's even stranger is that I can remember this one rather vividly despite it not making any sense at all.
It began as a trip to America - Whitney and I were in the Ford Fiesta, driving towards a harbour of some sort and parking the car on the ferry. (I didn't park in the right place, so I had to move the car about a bit by hand to get it aligned with the rest of them). Once on, we realised we didn't know if we were on the right one. The parking attendant, who was Dave Gorman for some reason, told us that this was the only ferry leaving St Andrews today, so we were definitely in the right place.
My family were coming over on a separate journey, and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
quadralien had to spend two hours at the police station because he didn't have the right forms to let him into the country. This is probably a spillover from real life, when on the last two plane trips we've taken, he's first been mistaken for a terrorist and possessing dangerous glasses, and the other time when the staff thought he was likely to go on a murderous rampage with a pair of blunt scissors in the medicine bag.
Once in some anonymous place in America, we were wandering around a marketplace (I think Chris Tarrant featured here somehow, but I'm not sure), but something was wrong with it and I had to go into the source code and recode it in LISP. The reason for this is that yesterday I had been watching Ian Gent write a Sudoku solver in it, complete with Tom winding him up and adding in little comments like "Tom is great, isn't he" when he wasn't looking. Once the marketplace was fixed, I tested the code by buying a can of Orangina from a Chinese man at the side.
For the journey back, we were all on a small plane instead (I can't think what happened to the car). Just before take-off, an announcement came over the speakers - "We're going to have to go through a herd of cows, and none of us have ever done this before, so hang on tight." With no further warning, the plane accelerated towards take-off, and we held on as we were buffeted about by the cows being hit by the front of the plane, bits of leather and mince flying off in all directions.
After clearing the herd, we took off and circled for a little, observing the cow-related carnage below as the passengers applauded. Then we were on our way back home.
I'm sure it's things like this that got Salvador Dali started.
It began as a trip to America - Whitney and I were in the Ford Fiesta, driving towards a harbour of some sort and parking the car on the ferry. (I didn't park in the right place, so I had to move the car about a bit by hand to get it aligned with the rest of them). Once on, we realised we didn't know if we were on the right one. The parking attendant, who was Dave Gorman for some reason, told us that this was the only ferry leaving St Andrews today, so we were definitely in the right place.
My family were coming over on a separate journey, and
quadralien had to spend two hours at the police station because he didn't have the right forms to let him into the country. This is probably a spillover from real life, when on the last two plane trips we've taken, he's first been mistaken for a terrorist and possessing dangerous glasses, and the other time when the staff thought he was likely to go on a murderous rampage with a pair of blunt scissors in the medicine bag.Once in some anonymous place in America, we were wandering around a marketplace (I think Chris Tarrant featured here somehow, but I'm not sure), but something was wrong with it and I had to go into the source code and recode it in LISP. The reason for this is that yesterday I had been watching Ian Gent write a Sudoku solver in it, complete with Tom winding him up and adding in little comments like "Tom is great, isn't he" when he wasn't looking. Once the marketplace was fixed, I tested the code by buying a can of Orangina from a Chinese man at the side.
For the journey back, we were all on a small plane instead (I can't think what happened to the car). Just before take-off, an announcement came over the speakers - "We're going to have to go through a herd of cows, and none of us have ever done this before, so hang on tight." With no further warning, the plane accelerated towards take-off, and we held on as we were buffeted about by the cows being hit by the front of the plane, bits of leather and mince flying off in all directions.
After clearing the herd, we took off and circled for a little, observing the cow-related carnage below as the passengers applauded. Then we were on our way back home.
I'm sure it's things like this that got Salvador Dali started.
