Cheese Dreams

23 Aug
Cabinet of Dr Caligari (1920)

The Cabinet of Dr Caligari (1920)

Tossing and turning I find myself alert and staring into the darkness, eyes wide open. There’s a noise somewhere in the house, a rustling in the corner of the bedroom and a complete sense of inertia overwhelms me. There is no escape from the fear… has someone broken in… has the family been brutally murdered while you slept and now only seconds away from the intruder coming to you. Move you stupid bastard, don’t just lie there… what if this is all real and not merely the product of an overactive imagination?…

Please tell me I’m not the only one who has woken in the middle of the night, frozen to the bed, scared to so much as breathe lest some invisible non-existent entity should hear me and attack me with a cleaver. Even now, living in a house with other people, I still get the fear… usually the rustling of a plastic bag, settling somewhere else in the room, but instantly sending visions of scurrying rats to my poor addled brain. Oh please, no, not rats… And I’m too afraid to double check because if there are rats and I see one, I might actually die. I loathe rats more than anything.

Still in my worst nightmares rats feature prominently. I’ve tried looking into dream interpretation, and while some of those dreams may well have been suggestive of my enemies, there is no escaping the simple fact that I loathe the horrid long-tailed rodents. Sod it, I’m off to the Isle of Man, they don’t have rats there… don’t they?

There is a place between dreams and reality wherin lies truth. That REM state where we hypnotise ourselves into an ability to see the universe for what it is. Mine seems to be full of zombies, rats, car crashes, quarries and a strange ability to hover, frequently with one leg stuck out in front like one of those posters of John Cleese doing his infamous silly walk. Genuinely I find myself coming out of those slumbers completely disorientated and convinced that I have been haunting my old school and been hovering for years, and struggling to keep it a secret from the rest of the world.

Once in a blue moon these nocturnal states feature an attractive woman – possibly even one I know in real life – and my gosh, she’s actually interested in me, and well, there is something approaching a relationship that doesn’t end in plates and pots being thrown at my protruding head. Is it any wonder I can’t read the signs – you step into the real world convinced that you’re having a relationship with this beauty, while when you see her she can barely look at you, let alone give you an opportunity to cop a feel.

We can only take comfort in the knowledge that the fiends that betray us and ruin our happiness can only defend themselves for so long in the fantastic recesses of the slumbering mind. When the gaseous plague hits you and turns you into the walking dead, I will have to resort to the shovel and the shotgun eventually and revenge will be mine.

Cheddar for supper is wonderful. Looking forward to seeing what the stilton does…


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