Oh, another mad cheese dream…

But first…
Dulltown, Europe: Today’s carefully selected adjectives are: rotund, metasilicic, scraggling, kenspeckle, and chalky.
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So, having had a reasonably busy day yesterday I decided to have a sandwich and then go to bed unusually early, just after 10 pm… Of course, I found myself wide awake again around 4.30 am. As there was nothing I should be springing out of bed for, I listened to some dreary news stuff on the radio and managed to drift back to sleep again…

It seemed like a nice bright spring day, I was out in the open, but I don’t think I was in the countryside – ah, there’s a young round-faced woman in pale clothes leaning against that fence, or is it a wall? She is standing sideways so I only see her profile, but she speaks to me, she has an Australian accent, ‘Don’t you remember me? We worked on that theatre thing together a few years ago…’ I didn’t remember her, but I didn’t say so… She grabs me, hugs me, and I suddenly received wet sloppy kisses on the mouth… I’m not sure what to do – ah, but I see there are some steep wide marble steps leading up to a grey stone building with Greek columns, I’ll go up there.
Oh, it’s nice inside – lofty long white-painted rooms – it’s an art gallery. Look there’s a pile of clothes, costumes, on the floor for us visitors – there are cloaks, feathered hats, dark coloured robes, but I decide not to bother changing into any of them. The place is suddenly full of people, visitors who have come to look – there are also a few short-haired tall men with unfeasibly wide shoulders, they are dressed all in black, and they rush around weaving smoothly in and out of the crowd. On the walls and in a line down the centre of the great hall are the artworks – large jagged bright paintings, sculptures twice the height of the people – how did they get all this in here so quickly? My companion says that she doesn’t know – my companion is now someone other than the round-faced Australian, but I’m not sure who she is. She has just walked up to a massive abstract painting, dark red with mottling of brown and sombre green – she is reaching out to touch it – I say, ‘Oh, I don’t thing they’ll let you touch it…’ But her fingers pass through the surface forming a circular hole with rounded edges – which closes around her wrist. ‘Here. you have a try,’ she says. I slip my hand in and the paint closes around it – inside it feels like it is full of slippery spheres – I pull my hand out to discover it covered with strands of sticky pink chewing gum, which I begin to quickly pick off before it hardens. There is a young Goth couple standing arm-in-arm watching us – they smile and then wander off. Let’s walk down along the long line of box-like sculptures – look, there are curtains at the bottom, you can go inside… All the pieces in the exhibition are very well made, and crisp, and clean, and bright – and they are very impressive, but somehow I feel there is something lacking which, for me, just takes the edge off the experience. We walk arm-in-arm, like the Goths, and I say to my companion (who is now wearing a grey and black cloak and a plum coloured medieval hat), ‘You know all this isn’t real, don’t you? We are actually dreaming – both of us.’ She looks puzzled, and I say, ‘Come on, say after me, “We are dreaming – right now!…”, but she refuses. The crowds seem to have thinned out somewhat – look, the floor is tiled in grey and it slopes down to shallow blue pools of water – practical as ever, I ask, ‘how did they manage to install those?’ This is all so brilliant! Oh, that painting is nice! It’s made from smooth thick wood, triangles of vivid glossy colour, it must be eight feet across! Feel it, it’s like… look – there’s chewing gum on my fingers… what’s that dog doing barking in here? Was that a door slamming?… Wuff, wuff, wuff, it’s getting louder – that’s the big black dog belonging to the house two doors up… No, no, I don’t want to wake up – no, it’s good in here…

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
This entry was posted in art, brain, colours, drama, dreaming, fashion, humour, information, mind, painting, sculpture, sex, words and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Oh, another mad cheese dream…

  1. haha! Sounds like a great dream 😀

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