A weird dream and a bad dream

I had two dreams over the last week... the first one opened with me greeting Whitney's younger brother as we guided his yellow helicopter down to land. From there, we went on to meet with some people from university that I haven't talked to in years, and sat down at a long table for eight people in an Indian restaurant. I looked out the window to see my dad walking across the car park with Girard, one of the characters from kjorteo's in-progress novel. After joining us at the table, my dad spent ages looking through the menu trying to find korma (because "that's what you couldn't get outside Britain"), and some sort of near alternative that began with a J that I don't think was actually a real word. All this time, I was aware that I had to quickly drive back and get my badge from the wall of the basement office before we moved on to our next place we were going to visit that evening, and I resolved to do it in the gap between when we ordered and when the food arrived - but the restaurant staff said that they were already staying open late on our behalf anyway (at seven in the evening!) Anyway, I've no idea.

The other ( is worse )

The next day at work, someone came up to me and asked me if I had lived anywhere near Dunblane, because he had seen a documentary on it the previous night - so we spent a lunchtime talking about someone going into a primary school and shooting children.

Still, you've got to laugh, haven't you.