Blue Moon

What happens once in a so-called blue moon?

Good fortune, perhaps? Well, it all depends which way you're inclined, I guess. Gary Player was once attributed to have said, "The harder I work, the luckier I get". So you may well be favoured by good fortune more often than once in a blue moon, or it may never happen, it all depends on the type of person you are. (Oh yes it does!) So, I say no.

Meeting someone special? Well, the very word special implies that it's something that might not happen very often, that might indeed happen once in a blue moon. So I say probably.

A blue moon? Well, full marks to the clever clogs at the back. Yes, a blue moon does happen once in a blue moon. Well done. Take a bow. And so on. Mr Delmonte (and I) say yes.

PS Anyone into blue moons please feel free to leave a comment, below. I'd love to know how you yourself are affected by such strange goings on up above.

Does it mean anything when... ?

Does it mean anything when you dream of someone that you haven't seen for a very long time? A woman you used to go out with, to be precise. In the dream they're sitting in a sports car, in the passenger seat, with a man by their side. Their car is parked next to your car, actually, but you still manage to drive away your red banger without her seeing you.

So does it mean anything, then, after having such a dream that you see this person's real car the next day - a white mini of the new variety - or at least what you think to be this person's car, driving along the road?

Does it mean anything, then, when moments after this sighting you see someone who looks very much like a younger version of this woman that you dreamed about walk past you in a sandwich shop? "Do you have a sister?" goes the question, "No" comes the reply. But you were not the one who asked the question, it was one of the shop assistants.

So does this mean anything?

Yeah, I didn't think so either but I've got to write summat here as it's been ages ain't it?

PS The cream Mini Cooper had number plates beginning with YE05 and was spotted driving in Holmfirth, today, at lunchtime. Or was I daydreaming... ?

Who Said This?

"I cannot be happy whilst you, someone I care about, are not. I am not responsible for your happiness but it does not seem fair for me to find peace when your life is still shadowed in pain?"

Whoever said it, and I have a strong idea which Idiot it was, they are destined to live a life of struggle, for sure.

"It wasn't your fault," said the adult to the little boy in the photo. "It wasn't your fault."

Wipe the tear from your eye, Mr Idiot. It was not Your fault.

Is this real...

or am I dreaming?

And if I am dreaming, why is it always with the nightmares?

I Know Someone who wants to moan about a sibling of his. But he can feck off and get his own blog! As for this - it will be updated, I mean corrected, soon!

Now bugger off. I don't feel like talking today!

More mythical creatures

- http://www.TheMythsMovie.com

I'm a dreamer!

Are you?

I dream about a place where men respect women; where white laughs together with black; where people smile at each other (yes, even in London); where there is enough for all - enough time, enough food, enough love; where mistakes are tolerated and even forgiven...

Er, no!

(My mythical 'reader' must now imagine the 'scratched record' sound of a stylus being forced back to the beginning.)

I _____ dream _______ of

. . . . . . . much

. . . . . . . . . . . . . darker

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . things.

I dream of ex-Radio 1 DJ, now Classic FM stalwart, Simon Bates (that's scary enough as it is, let's be honest!) snogging a woman at a party that wasn't his wife. (For some reason, this reality of married man's life seemed to disturb me.)

I dream of weddings and getting my smart clothes dirty, and then (much, much worse in the world of dreams, this I can tell you!) I dream that I cut myself, that I am bleeding.

I dream that I'm speaking to people, trying to get their attention ("what food would you like me to cook, everybody?"), but no-one can hear me. No one is listening.

I dream of being shot in the head by troops rounding up insurgents (i.e. me) and despatching them mercilessly, almost gleefully, with the justice of war. I even feel the 'moment of death'; I even visit my dead body a few days later, see the bullet wounds.

When I dream of sex it either doesn't involve me and I'm just a frustrated watcher, or it does involve me and I really wish it didn't (I couldn't possibly tell all, here. Let me save it for my first post-success interview with, ooh, Psychologies magazine or maybe even The Big Issue.)

And even when I dream of Cowboys (no Indians), there's a sinister edge to proceedings. Caves are involved, and killings, lots of killings.

And I always, always, always dream of the scary geyser who, for some unknown reason, always wants to seem to run after me. And despite the fear that propels my legs, he always seems to be able to run faster than me. Alright, he's never quite caught me yet, as I always seem to wake up, but I really wish he had caught me in my teens, when he first appeared, as now I'd be able to just get on my with my much-needed sleep.

Is it any wonder, my fellow dreamer, that I completely understand the similar plight of one little yellow boy called Bart Simpson, who is often seen waking from disturbing dreams, screaming.

Ay caramba, what a dreamer I am!

PS I did dream of meeting the Dalai Llama once. I couldn't possibly tell you what happened now could I! Let's just say that there were no sex scenes and nobody died!

What's missing here, then?

These are the 3 things I am meant to be focussing on this year

1. Writing a novel
2. Learning Spanish
3. Earning 'enough' money to be able to do 1. and 2.

Is there anything misssing?

I didn't dream of you last night!

I wish I had, though.

Instead, I was some kind of daring fugitive, on the run for doing something wrong! (Probably complained too 'loudly' about the incompetent and corrupt BLiar government. Do you reckon he ever read George Orwell's Animal Farm?)

Anyway, the boys in blue were after me. Some kind of uniform, for sure.

And they easily caught me. Meant business, I seem to remember. I was to be summarily executed. Each and every one of the 'soldiers' was to take turns in emptying a few rounds into me.

They were pretty angry with me.

And I just accepted my fate. Walked with the first 'soldier' to my place of execution -- the man that was going to actually kill me -- and even agree remember agreeing to keep my hands in the air so that he would know if I was dead or not!

(How accommodating of me.)

Gun goes against the top of my head.

Bullet is fired.

And then another bullet.

Strange feeling, having a bullet pass through your head.

Don't remember being frightened or cross or anything. I don't think I was looking forward to the pain of the bullet passing through my not-so-thick skull, but that's all that came to mind (if you'll pardon the expression).

So two bullets pass through my head.

And then I seem to be floating, floating past my very own body a little while later.

I see only two bullet holes in my head. The other men had obviously not wanted to waste their bullets on my already dead body.

That was considerate of them.

And then...

As I woke from yet another marvellous BJ dream, I could hear the pigeons doing a merry dance on my rooftop. So loud, and repetitive was their banging around that I seriously thought someone was banging, albeit halfheartedly, on my front door.

I then had a short day-dream about putting spikes on my roof, and imagined the argument I'd be having with the pigeon owner when the first of 'em got spiked.

(Why can't I have sexy dreams like everyone else?)

(Why can't I dream of you?)

"I dreamt of you last night"...

No poetic ending this time, though there were tears. We met, briefly, then You left me to spend the night with another.

It's a strange way to say 'Hello', but

'¡Hola!'

I dreamt of you last night...

I dreamt of a girl named... Vivienne, last night. (You, in a blonde wig.)

You'd finally made the journey to meet me in Odersfeld.

But You didn't stay with me. You were there to meet someone else - a "husband's friend"; and wanted me to know, I guess.

I talked to this 'friend' and asked him if he'd been intimate with You. "No!" he replied all enthusiastically, "but I'm really looking forward to doing so tonight."

"Yeah, she's good" I answered, uncharachteristically blowing my little male trumpet.

I hear you "loud and clear".

(I love you, do you hear.)

"Walk the line"

Let's walk the line.

Let's walk the line.

--

(I know it doesn't make sense. It doesn't ryhyme, and it's not a story, but it woke me up at 4am, and that's just about what I remember, okay! I wrote my notes at 4.44 ...

Not Johnny Cash.

Not Johnny Nash.

Just Me and Vivienne.)