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Thursday, 30 September 2010

Sweet dreams are made of this

The dreams must have stopped as I had the best night’s sleep I can remember for months. So much so that I was up and out by six-thirty. Rousing myself that early coupled with the misty, cold and dark morning awoke a memory, long since forgotten, of my first job. As a paper boy I was up at six out by six-thirty and finished my round by seven-thirty in time for school. Before I started the round I had so many hopes and dreams of increasing my earning potential and generally being flush with excess cash. The cold and harsh reality was that I was a shit paper boy. I forgot houses, coming back to the shop with spare newspapers, I was late, if there was a dog at the house I would just leave the paper in the garden (irrespective of rain, sleet or snow) and other inconsiderate and unprofessional practices. I lasted two weeks. Morning jobs have never been a love of mine, even in the Navy I would do anything I could to get out of the morning watch (0400 – 0800).

The point is that my bloody night-time nemesis ‘The Blue Chicken’ (capitalised for emphasis) seems to have gone away, for now at least. It’s odd the way you can remember, or not, your dreams. It may just be me but sometimes a vivid dream can be remembered for weeks, so much so that it’s almost impossible to recall exactly when it took place but the images are seared so indelibly into your brain that it could have just been dreamt last night. Yet, sometimes, like now for example, I find it very difficult to remember with clarity any of the dreams containing the blue chicken. When I wrote my initial entry it was all so clear, I can remember it being clear, but now? I hope the little feathery bastard has gone for good. Maybe the events of the past few days have given me more to consider and focus upon. On that note there’s nothing further to tell. The email address still baffles and I continue to read more about EVP and associated phenomena. Thank god for desk jobs and the internet ;-)

More later.

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