It is said that in biblical times (a land before Facebook, kindles and online dating) it was possible to wander down to your local prison and find an inmate willing and able to interpret your dreams. How we roared with laughter as the Pharaoh’s encounter with 14 cows was interpreted as a need for food frugal-ness. But it paid off and Egypt survived a seven year famine! So maybe there’s something in this dream-interpretation business.
Calling all inmates who may read the Blog on the Bus for some harmless escapism (of the mind you understand, I’m not abdicating prison break), come and interpret what I was served up with last night…
There I was out and about in a Southampton under siege from a gang of masked men with machine guns (stranger than you might think – Southampton is nothing like the city I paint in my books!). The thing about these bandits is they could morph into footballs and bounce away quickly if there position became perilous. Odd, right?
The men / balls were being hunted down by a group of vigilantes dressed in bee costumes (as in the buzzing variety). Upon their heads they wore bright orange bicycle helmets and for weapons they carried large wooden sticks. You must understand that the vigilantes had no special powers, they were just men and women dressed in furry costumes for no obvious reason!
I can’t tell you which side won as the alarm went off and I was woken from my slumber. Nevertheless, I would welcome any thoughts and suggestions on what it all meant and who are the men-balls in my life and who are the bees? I believe I was about to join the bees when my initiation was rudely disturbed by the Radio-1 DJ on the alarm clock.
So Joseph, put that amazing technicolour dreamcoat on and tell little old me ‘What does this crazy, crazy dream mean?’
Thanks for joining me on the bus this morning. Until next time, happy reading!