I Had Too Much To Dream Last Night.
I’ve had this dream right and I haven’t a clue what it is about. I’m sure dream analysts will have a field day and point out to me that I have a mother fixation and want to blow up the Houses of Parliament or something. Maybe, but it doesn’t explain the weirdness of it at all.
Picture the scene. It is summer and the weather is warm and sunny. In Southend there is a carnival that is taking place but there is also some kind of music festival as well. I am walking along the seafront, not by the amusements and the pier but up a bit from there, in the better end of town, when I bump into someone I know. He is an old man dressed in a white hospital gown, grey tracksuit bottoms, sandals and a straw Stetson. He has snow white hair and is carrying a guitar. He is obviously homeless and has mental health issues or Alzheimer’s. This man is also a reggae singer and is in fact Clint Eastwood!!! Some readers might be aware that there was a reggae singer called Clint Eastwood, but it is not him, it is the Clint ‘Good, Bad and the Ugly’ Eastwood we have here.
From the reaction I receive it is obvious that Clint is a mate of mine and trusts me. On my part I am very concerned about Clint’s well being, especially as he has just wet himself and is in a bit of a confused state. I decide to try and get him into a residential care home so he can be looked after and be kept off of the streets. However I know I have to be careful with this as he is not going to be happy with this situation. I know I am going to have to make out that we are just visiting somewhere and then get him settled and do a runner.
Go to a couple of places and they all are unacceptable for some reason, although it is not clear why. I then find a place in Thorpe Bay (which is a posh bit of the Borough of Southend) that looks okay (although in the dream it is run down with peeling walls and scuffed lino on the floor). We are met by a lady who looks like a cleaner and who guides us up to a room with brown carpet, yellowing walls and a lovely Formica bar. She distracts Clint while I leave and go back to the carnival. I am obviously visibly upset because a number of people ask me what is wrong. I tell them that I have just put my mate Clint Eastwood in a care home.
I wake up.
What was that all about then? I don’t even like Clint Eastwood.