I was hoping to add a minimum of one entry per month, but I am currently a little snowed under with work and my PhD, so have decided to make this post-26th birthday dream the last one for the year, with Twenty following at some stage in the first week of 2010.
This particular recollection was ridiculously bright, and happened in an easily recognizable Luton, making a pleasing (though disconcerting) change from the usual city based ramblings of my brain. For other reasons, the dream is recreated on my main blog (tisar.wordpress), elaborated on, taken on detours etc.
'In Luton, well...initially some nondescript countryside outside Luton, where a small community has sprung up around an impressive tree, with a face carved in to it.
There are buildings of various kinds, a factory, a threshers (in the tradional sense of that word), a milliners and a pub called 'The ____ Horse'. I go there
with friends, as a sort of pub crawl. Start in the country and move to the town is the idea. Fresh air and all that. We take up a table in front of the bar. Behind
us is a window with a view of the tree and then rolling hills. many people are outside, and seem to be trying to get in. For once, they are not zombies.
The staff treat their presence as a joke. I drink several beers, all of which are good as I remember it (this was obviously important to me; I maintain a habit of writing down what I've had to avoid drinking things I hate and have forgotten the name of...sad but practical). I also order food. On the menu, the food I like is 6.95. I eat it, but when it comes to paying, a charge of £26 is made. Apparently I ate some incredibly pricey popcorn. I don't understand how this has happened. I protest, loudly and for an extended period. The barmaid seems angry. I think she is married to the owner, making her the landlady. Her husband looks very much like Edward Woodward. He offers no help. Leaving my companions behind I storm off
without paying for anything.
Outside is deserted, the odd horde of people are gone. I stroll leisurely in to the town, knowing I am not being chased for non payment. Back in Luton I attempt to board
a train at the new station (located where P&T music used to be, if you know the area). I then remember that I am meant to be meeting Chris for a drink. I make my way past several establishments; one is called 'Pete's Place'. They are all along High Town Road. When I finally reach the pub where Chris resides, he is on the way out, trying to find me. We return. He too has ordered food. He says 'I thought I was eating alone again this week' but I am unsure what to make of this. I respond by recounting my story. Two identical men sit near us, staring intently at both me and the meal Chris is eating. Eventually I order a drink, which is called Harvey's
_______. It comes in a small glass and looks like coke. I try and pay with a ten pound note but the barmaid wont accept it as she believes I have a smaller denomination.'
This particular recollection was ridiculously bright, and happened in an easily recognizable Luton, making a pleasing (though disconcerting) change from the usual city based ramblings of my brain. For other reasons, the dream is recreated on my main blog (tisar.wordpress), elaborated on, taken on detours etc.
'In Luton, well...initially some nondescript countryside outside Luton, where a small community has sprung up around an impressive tree, with a face carved in to it.
There are buildings of various kinds, a factory, a threshers (in the tradional sense of that word), a milliners and a pub called 'The ____ Horse'. I go there
with friends, as a sort of pub crawl. Start in the country and move to the town is the idea. Fresh air and all that. We take up a table in front of the bar. Behind
us is a window with a view of the tree and then rolling hills. many people are outside, and seem to be trying to get in. For once, they are not zombies.
The staff treat their presence as a joke. I drink several beers, all of which are good as I remember it (this was obviously important to me; I maintain a habit of writing down what I've had to avoid drinking things I hate and have forgotten the name of...sad but practical). I also order food. On the menu, the food I like is 6.95. I eat it, but when it comes to paying, a charge of £26 is made. Apparently I ate some incredibly pricey popcorn. I don't understand how this has happened. I protest, loudly and for an extended period. The barmaid seems angry. I think she is married to the owner, making her the landlady. Her husband looks very much like Edward Woodward. He offers no help. Leaving my companions behind I storm off
without paying for anything.
Outside is deserted, the odd horde of people are gone. I stroll leisurely in to the town, knowing I am not being chased for non payment. Back in Luton I attempt to board
a train at the new station (located where P&T music used to be, if you know the area). I then remember that I am meant to be meeting Chris for a drink. I make my way past several establishments; one is called 'Pete's Place'. They are all along High Town Road. When I finally reach the pub where Chris resides, he is on the way out, trying to find me. We return. He too has ordered food. He says 'I thought I was eating alone again this week' but I am unsure what to make of this. I respond by recounting my story. Two identical men sit near us, staring intently at both me and the meal Chris is eating. Eventually I order a drink, which is called Harvey's
_______. It comes in a small glass and looks like coke. I try and pay with a ten pound note but the barmaid wont accept it as she believes I have a smaller denomination.'
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