Two interesting dreams in the last few days. Not that I expect anybody to care except me, but I’m finding it useful to log them somewhere.

Dad and the tram

In the first one, I was on a tram on a route where they’d been moving the stops (such as Collins St) and we stopped at a new stop which was partially elevated, then continued past an intersection. A handful of people were incorrectly waiting at the intersection, and as the tram sailed past, I saw my Dad among them.

I watched out of the back of the tram as he ran after it, and caught it up at the following stop. It was like him at his current age, but more nimble.

He climbed onto the tram and I said to him “you know they’ve moved the stop, it’s back there now” and I pointed back to it. He said “I know, but I can’t use it; I can’t get my golf clubs up the steps”. (I’m pretty confident in saying he’s never played golf in his life.) I replied there was a ramp, but didn’t get into a discussion with him about it, as I was then getting off the tram.

Recursive dreaming

And the other… I had a dream that I had a dream that I had woken up on Christmas day and found the upper half of my head burnt and charred. In the dream within the dream it didn’t hurt, and didn’t seem to cause any medical problems. In the dream, I was asking Marita and Justine what they thought about the dream I’d had. Weird.

I think I’ll get an extra smoke alarm for my house.

Dream from the other night: I woke up with huge hair, sticking straight out for about 30cm in every direction from my head. I looked in the mirror and couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “How can this be?” I thought “I only had a haircut last week…”

I dreamt I was the coach for the local junior football team. Instead of playing on a conventional oval, it was a kind of L-shaped ground, like two ovals stuck together, possibly reflecting a park nearby to the house I just bought.

There was a game going, but only about half a dozen kids playing in this huge ground. The umpire decided it needed some pepping up, and arranged for several more sets of goals and balls to be added to the game. This was done (apparently by magic), and then lots more players appeared too.

It looked a bit like a football version of Heath Robinson’s “Multi-Tennis” cartoon.

The other night: Rather than my usual mowing boys turning up when I ask them, half a dozen 10-ish year old boys and girls turned up at my house with a mower and various other implements of destruction and started doing my lawn and hacking up my garden, without being asked.

Last night: I was appointed interim CEO of a big company for a week, but in the position I had to wear a disguise and pretend to be an African-American called Leroy. I was also given the task of driving to the airport to pick up some Somali people coming to work for the company, but first I had to sell a kettle to a lady I apparently found going door-to-door. Then the steering wheel of my car was on the wrong side, then it was pouring down rain making the trip to the airport slow. Then when I got to the airport and waited with a sign greeting the people, they didn’t turn up.

Weird.

There was a terrific picture of (what’s left of) the Monty Python team in the newspaper on the weekend.

I know there’ll probably be a collective groan from readers, but it inspired a brief dream overnight in which Terry Jones came around for tea, chatted with my mother about his TV appearances, and agreed to have his picture taken with me sitting on the couch (posing as if we were a couple), but as the camera snapped away, all the family kids kept running into shot.

• Broadway.com: photos from Spamalot
• Diary 19 Nov 2004: almost meeting Michael Palin
• Brian’s diary 10 Nov 2004: meeting Eric Idle

Another weird dream the other night:

I was in a kitchenware shop in Collins Street, as was the cat I had when I was growing up, Sooty.

We shouted “Get it back, it’s the wrong set!” And he started to try and grab pieces back, but every time he chased someone to get it back, another person would take a piece from the package.

Bizarro.

• Possible influences: Apart from visiting a kitchenware place on the weekend, I have NFI.
• Past dreams.

I was with Rae, helping a work colleague of mine to move a table. A big dinner table, which for some reason was located in a market in a formerly disused railway goods shed somewhere near Flinders Street. The table needed to be moved to a furniture polishing shop elsewhere in the Melbourne CBD, and for some reason it had to be moved by hand.

We couldn’t initially figure out how to fit us all into the Range Rover, and some considered catching a number 50 tram from North Melbourne to get there. But then it was pointed out there were extra seats in the back tray we could use. And off we went to shift the table.

(For those who came in late, I don’t often remember my dreams, so I frequently blog them when I do. Lots of whacked out ideas in this one, but possible influences include: observing Adrian showing my kids how the pop-down seats in his stationwagon work yesterday… talk of a table lent to my sister… passing the Docklands, with its now partially demolished, partially still standing looooooong former railway goods shed.)

After my last batch of dreams, Nat posted an analysis of them, which I found very interesting, though it seemed to indicate a lot of negativity, which I don’t really feel is in my life right now.

But anyway there was another suite of dreams a few nights ago, as disjointed as ever, but not a bus or a fire in sight this time…

I was in an office, talking to someone called Ashad. On the noticeboard were pictures of my old high school (Melbourne High) being demolished and rebuilt to the original plans. Ashad said it was actually cheaper to rebuild it than to simply clean it, as cleaning involved taking out each brick one at a time and removing the dirt, then replacing it.

(Possible influences: announcement last week that a teacher I knew at another school has been appointed as the new principal to Melbourne High.)

I rode my bike home from Marita’s. (Unlikely, it’s quite a hike.) Lots of St Kilda footy fans were walking in the streets. I got to my street, but couldn’t find my house — it was like it had been replaced by other houses.

(Possible influences: the plumber who recently suggested it was a no-brainer than the owner of my house could demolish and build units on the land.)

Watching TV, Tony Stamp and other actors from The Bill appeared on an advert for an expanding truncheon (like they use on the show) for sale for Christmas.

(Possible influences: I rarely watch the show anymore, but the night before, I had seen a little bit of it, including a scene with two characters and their expanding truncheons.)