Saturday, January 29, 2005

Do Stef's dream of electric chefs?

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I'm the kind of guy who constantly sees suggestive symbolism in the world around him; pepper grinders, Nelson's column, my coffee mug tree (photo another time), maypoles, displays of fresh fruit in supermarkets, that box of things under the bed …
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Sometimes my condition is so extreme I cannot finish eating a particularly suggestive chocolate bar without collapsing into a fit of giggles

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This is partly due to the fact that, since time immemorial, people have been crafting objects to look like genitalia, partly because British humour rests upon a solid bedrock of double entendre, but mostly because I have a dirty mind.

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I also think poo is funny.

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All things considered I'm probably well on my way to being a confirmed Freudian. I also hold more or less Freudian beliefs about the significance of dreams. My own personal experience suggests that dreams are usually a subconscious reordering of observations, thoughts and feelings from the day before. What makes dreams interesting is the often wildly different emphasis or interpretation placed by my subconscious on those observations, thoughts and feelings. For example, I may be consciously aware of a certain problem or issue in my life that I have consciously decided is of little concern. Yet that same problem could very well become the centrepiece of a really, really scary nightmare. Suggesting to me that I'm a lot more worried about that problem than I would choose to believe. Sometimes I'm not even consciously aware of issues that crop up in the dreams but, after experiencing them, I realise that, yes, they are bothering me.

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Some people believe that dreams may have a predictive quality. That fits in with my own personal dreamview easily enough. Two things could be going on: 1) You've subconsciously reasoned a likely turn of events in your mind during the day or 2) If you believe in such things, you’ve intuitively become aware of a future happening during the day.

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Anyway, on to the reason for this post.
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I woke up several times this morning in a cold sweat after a series of peculiar dreams. I can remember two of them:
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Dream 1. Spending a weekend away in Prague with Ainsley Harriot
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Nothing untoward happened during our laughter-filled two days together but I am deeply troubled as to what's taking place in my mind. If I was prey to a subconscious longing for a covert and bijou weekend holiday with a member of the same sex, why wouldn't I select Russell Crowe or Gabriel Byrne; choosing a chunky, hairless TV celebrity chef instead? I have no answers.
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(during my search for a good picture of Ainsley I came across Uri Geller's personal homepage which includes a section entitled 'Uri and famous celebrities and scientists'. For some, probably non-Freudian, reason it made me laugh
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Dream 2. The Temptation of Stef
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My last period of employment came to the end as the result of severe, and unwarranted, shafting by three particularly unctuous, revolting people. On my last day, each of the three of them held out a hand and wished me good luck for my future. To my eternal regret I shook all three of them by the hand, when what I should have done was spit on them and launch into a speech along the lines of 'one day, it might not be tomorrow, or next week, but one day, we'll meet again, somewhere dark'.
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This hand-shaking experience was one of the most traumatic of my adult life and I have dreamt about it several times since.

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Last night's variant of the dream was different. Last night one of them offered me a job, a very well-paid job. The reason why I woke up in a cold sweat after that baby was that I actually thought about it.
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I thought about it.
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Just as worrying was the fact that I woke up with the sense that I had somehow been testing myself, had only just scraped a weak pass and that a minor punishment was in order. I have been found guilty of a thought crime by myself and sentence is pending.
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I'm due to go on a photo taking stroll and sup a few beers with some friends later on today. I may have grounds to be a little nervous. My subconscious mind is uncompromising in the standards it sets and Biblical in its wrath when these standards are not met. What kind of punishment is my id going to mete out to me today? An accidental fall perhaps? A dangerously placed slip of the tongue? A wet fart maybe?

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It really doesn’t bear thinking about.
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2 comments:

Kate said...

The trouble with your posts is not the length but rather the fact that you know you will reap rich rewards if only you can bite the bullet. Damn. I have started biting the bullet though and it's all good.
PS I like poo too, and I did know what you mean ;D
PPS Maybe you don't like poo ... you just find it funny ... well I like it AND find it funny!
PPPS How did uri gellar start out so, erm ... hot?! And end up so ... Uri Gellar?
PPPPS Only joking. No more Ps or Ss.

Stef said...

Last time I bit a bullet was years ago. It tasted awful.

Uri's still hot but in a different way. Embrace the Camp Side and understanding will follow.

In praise of poo ...

1. It's funny, (when it's soft and runny)
2. It's necessary