I had a dream on Friday night. For someone who doesn’t often remember dreams, it was quite startling in the amount of detail (and plot, for want of a better word).
Staying overnight with Isaac, Jeremy and I at my house were my lovely Marita, my friends Tony and Rae, their daughter Phoebe, my sister Susannah, her husband Adrian, and Zoe (who is not a blood relative but probably qualifies as a pseudo-second-cousin).
The kids were asleep. The adults talked all night in the kitchen.
There was some discussion of the fact that with so many people in the house, there was no space left to sleep. Marita and I pondered wrapping up in a blanket on the kitchen counter. (In real life I can’t imagine this would be practical or comfortable).
Isaac and Phoebe woke up and wanted to play on my ancient BBC micro. We decided to allow it, just for half an hour, then they had to go back to sleep.
The adults kept talking. At 4am, it was light (!), and some gardeners arrived (?!?).
Marita’s dog Maisie was suddenly present too. I opened the door to see if we could find out why the gardeners were there at 4am, and Maisie started barking at them.
At this point a TV came on, and it was Rick from The Young Ones, with an appropriate (mis)quote: “So in fact we’ve stayed up all night. Now that’s what I call anarchy!”
Segue to Marita and I on a bus. We passed a school, and with so many people milling about I realised it was election day. I wondered where we could find a good sausage sizzle to go and vote at.
On the bus driver’s radio was Kevin Rudd, ALP foreign affairs spokesman. But he wasn’t talking about foreign affairs, he was talking about transport, saying something about getting to Werribee at 15:00 the day before. Then he started talking about foreign affairs, something about a withdrawl from somewhere called Herrion Island (or similar).
Then I woke up.