I thought I'd share my dream from last night.
So I was fighting a duel with my dad in this old house. We were using fencing foils, but real ones. No corks on the end. He'd got some good hits in and I was bleeding pretty badly, but he let his guard down on an attack and I ran him through. He dropped to the floor stone dead. We were meant to meet the rest of my family at some unspecified place, and the phone now rang - where were we? I blustered some excuse. I'd put my dad on a bed and covered him with a sheet and now checked on him. He was stiff as a board and blue. The phone rang again and this time I admitted I'd killed him. My mum suggested I take him to the hospital. I picked up his rigid, but suprisingly small and light corpse, and started to walk out the room, when I thought I noticed some movement..."Dad! Dad...are you alive? His eyes blinked! I rushed to the hospital and slowly he started to revive from his very dead state...but as he did something strange was happening. He was getting younger. Finally he stood before me, completely well again, but as a 12 year old boy.
What d'ya make of that one Dad?
Friday, February 1, 2008
Oedipus Schmoedipus
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3 comments:
Bloody hell! Well, as it happens I've decided not to rebuild the house and to spend the money on rebuilding my face. So in a few months time I'll look as though I am twelve. Interesting that in your dream I was winning the sword fight. I want you to know that I let you win so as not to damage your fragile ego. And if any of that were true, you'd be called Britney. With fondest love from your decidedly wrinkled, uncompetitive and extremely proud Dad xxxxx
PS. How did Mum seem?
didn't tell yer old man about the raging hard-on, did ya?
haha
I figured it would be too much for the old man's heart if I told him that his corpse wasn't the only thing "stiff as a board".
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