webofevil: (Default)
So in this dream I had (no, come back!), I realised two things: that all the passengers and crew on the shiny new bus pulled up at Tottenham Court Road were black and white, and that thanks to some revolutionary technique they had all been superimposed on to real life from a bus scene in an unspecified Ealing comedy. I marvelled out loud at this as I boarded the bus, causing one of the black and white passengers to entirely freak out. “What are you telling me?” he cried. “I’m not even real?” I realised I probably shouldn’t have said anything and tried to tell him that he should just get on with what he was doing, but this sudden existential crisis had made him frantic and I had to restrain him from attacking me. “Calm down,” I said, pinning his arms. “Fuck off!” he spat back, “I don’t even like you!”

I give this dream 7/10 for its technological innovation but 2/10 for enjoyment, as I don’t appreciate waking up with the unpleasant sensation of fighting off a hysterical man who’s working hard to headbutt me.


At least this time there was no product placement. Earlier this year the same studio brought me the odd experience of zooming along the Thames in a speedboat, bouncing harmlessly off massive gold-coloured inflatables advertising Guinness. To its credit, though. the studio is on a laudably Reithian mission to inform, and I’m constantly learning things I didn’t know. For example, Thora Birch turns out to work for Commons Hansard, which in turn is apparently located in my old school library.
webofevil: (Default)
In a dream the other night I was terribly proud of having managed to track down on eBay an original Star Wars promotional artefact: an average-size black pram that had very little room for a baby as most of it was taken up with a plastic model of the Mos Eisley cantina. For some reason the model would apparently catch fire and you could then put it out with its own plastic sprinkler system, which instantly soaked the pram and anyone occupying it, although the presence of any baby seems increasingly ill-advised the more you learn about this thing.

It also came with a promo brochure for “Star Wars II” and, in what I think you'll agree is a bit of a coup, a video of the original “Star Wars” which turns out to have been a film that George shot with the same title but that lacked the ambition of his later rework. It was shot, rather beautifully, in the streets of a recognisably 1970s city on Earth that was trying to be vaguely futuristic, although even with a limited effects budget they could probably have done a little better than, for example, bombs being represented by 1920s cigar-shaped racing cars with the word “BOMB” painted on the side.

Regrettably, though, it turns out I'm just as much of an absent-minded fool in my dreams as I can be in real life. Having picked up this prize find from the guy I bought it from and shown it to [livejournal.com profile] psychonomy, who was duly impressed, I promptly left it behind at a cinema.
webofevil: (Default)
Had an email from [livejournal.com profile] internetsdairy yesterday morning:
I just awoke from a dream in which you – you – were training some secret terrorists. You were doing so by taking them Western movies (The Lion King, Cocoon etc) hidden in ‘adult’ DVD covers in a carrier bag. You fiend! I was going to tell the police on you, but then I woke up.

They were democratic terrorists – you didn’t think there was enough democracy in Britain.

I hope there is no truth to these nocturnal rumours.
It turns out the ending was even more of a cliffhanger than he had made out—[livejournal.com profile] internetsdairy tells me that just before he woke up he was crossing the road to report my activities to a policeman, while I was on the phone trying to organise a hit to get him taken down before he could talk.



A reconstruction of the terrifying concluding moments of [livejournal.com profile] internetsdairy’s dream
webofevil: (Default)
Never leave your subconscious in charge of wordplay. I woke up the other day and caught the tail-end of a dream I was having, in which I had tried to construct some elaborate joke that played with the phrase “Ban this sick filth”. My subconscious seemed bizarrely pleased with the result, although my own incredulity increased the more I contemplated the phrase I was left looking at in my mind’s eye.

So the story is that at one point Peter Falk was lined up to play Darth Vader in one of the prequels, and the Daily Mail had led a campaign to dump him and get in someone else, with the following headline:
BIN THIS FALK SITH
I mean, for God's sake.
webofevil: (karol)
As I already mentioned to [livejournal.com profile] chiller, I woke up the other morning from a dream, all of which had already dissolved into the morning air apart from this haunting refrain:
Invoice, invoice
Cloudy toy
Any ideas?

December 2015

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