Asparagus, not cheese, dreaming…

But first…
Dulltown, Europe: Today’s adjectives are: hortative, seld, ventose, luculent, crabbed, and triacid.

It is usually cheese… Yes, it’s the late night cheese that gives me mad dreams, I didn’t have any cheese last night, but unusually, I did have some asparagus in with my vegetables in my evening meal – is asparagus a dream former?… Very nice is asparagus, I think I might buy it again…

Oh, this railway station is unusually small and dark – it’s busy with people, they stand around looking up, see they are all wearing old-fashioned raincoats – ah, no train at the platform yet – this station is also a museum of 20th c. objects – look at the nice oval white-faced clock showing twenty minutes to five – but the numerals 1, 2, and 3, and 6, 7, and 8, are missing as if they have slowly worn from the dial with use – I want the York train of course – I try to see, between the people, the glowing yellow destination board, but they keep getting in the way – excuse me – excuse me – suddenly a hissing sound, a train has pulled in – but it is a train smaller in height than normal – it pauses for a few minutes then cleverly moves itself to the adjacent track – people mutter and complain, heads down, into their turned-up coat collars – another train silently slides in, it stops, but it refuses to open its doors – people start pushing forward to try to get on – a slim man in a grey suit is pushing me in the back and murmuring something under his breath – as there is nowhere to go I take a small step back so as to deliberately bump into him. The inside of the carriage was aluminium and pastel colours – the seats were small and bright and of knobbly plastic like those on a child’s fairground ride – look, the aisle is blocked by a slow-moving little old lady in a bright bright woollen cardigan. I really want to be in York by at least five o’clock you know… The parcel was heavy, not too heavy – but it was an awkward shape – and the brown smooth cardboard was slippery to the fingers – I manage to walk down the street with it though – all these back streets look the same, don’t they? That one is no good, it stupidly turns left after a few yards – ah, look there it is – can’t make out the name – oh, it’s Chesterton Street after all – look it has bric-a-brac stalls set out on both sides – it’s a long long street – is that a pale cathedral at the far end, lit russet by the setting sun? Look, I think I’ll cut the corner off by going through this archway – it’s quite dark in here – is this a garage or a workshop of some kind? There are two men and a woman standing at a bench – they are wearing what look like one-piece hooded white overalls like forensic folk might wear – they all turn and look, and wave in a cheery manner, but I can’t see their faces – I think I’ll turn around and walk back instead. Oh, a very tall bearded ginger man in tattered black leathers – he is standing by an old maroon-coloured Norton motorcycle – he grabs the front wheel and lifts the bike up and passes it to his companion on the ledge – ‘Just grab this, will you?’ he says – between them they get it up onto the concrete slab platform. I still have my parcel of course – I’d better put it under my other arm now – time really is getting on – is that music I hear? Blink… blink… the glowing blue-green numerals say 7.46 – that, over there, must be the sun making the curtains vibrate a rusty russet – hark! – was that the sound of the letterbox snapping shut – and was that the thwap of a hand-full of pizza leaflets landing and cascading across the tiles in the hall?…

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...
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9 Responses to Asparagus, not cheese, dreaming…

  1. Oh dreaming of York, bliss. I love the place – Leeds as well. And pfft! pizza flyers, takeway leaflets, stupid catalogues that don’t even have my name on – that’s all I get too. Wouldn’t it be great to get a proper letter…handwritten of course! šŸ˜€

    • Dave Whatt says:

      I’m not sure that actually arrived in York in the dream – that certainly wasn’t a sunlit York Minster in the distance – I think this was the mystery city I often dream about…
      The area where I live has lots of shoddy flats so it is very popular with the pizza leaflet delivery people…

  2. But does asparagus make your pee smell strange? Very difficult to describe is the smell of asparagus urine. Apparently not everybody is affected though. Something to do with your metabolism. Which camp are you in?

  3. shammy says:

    ahhhh…. asparagus pee, you can’t mistake it!

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