under attack

i am climbing up some sort of structure that seems to be in the middle of the sea. the structure is part oil rig and part ancient monument. there are other people on the structure.
out to sea there are ships and they are coming towards us.
there is a feeling of fear and anticipation. something bad is going to happen. everyone hopes that they are going to be safe high up on the structure.

then it starts to happen the ships begin to fire at the structure.
i don't know if i am the only one doing this or not but i am swatting away what the ships are firing - which seem to be bags of paint and flour.
i have to move all over the place swing and clambouring around the structure in order to be in the right spot to deflect an incoming missile.

each wave of missles seem to get a little bigger and a little more dangerous. so they go from paper bags to plastic bags to cardboard, to plastic to tin. getting bigger and bigger.

harder and harder to swat away.

i have no idea what the outcome was.

bruce

i am off to an event. i am following someone who may or may not be colin patterson (5live's entertainmnet correspondent - and someone who i only have the vaguest notion of what he looks like) we are going into a building that is all neo-brutalist concrete - an artistic housing estate. we come to the large array of glass doors that within a deep entry foyer. before we get to them we have to pass a group of press paps - they are all there with their cameras, open necked shirts, bling and fags.
they cry out to colin to find out what is going on.
he takes the white bread crusty roll he is eating breaks a bit off and throws it at their feet.
'i like giving them crumbs. with luck a pigeon will shit on them as well.'

we go into the vast hall.
colin is no longer with me.
the carpet is that functional has to have a lot of wear and tear stuff that has the colour of a pale mouldy peach. to the right of me there is a long conference style table with lots of microphones on it. there is no one at it.
in front of the table is a woman who seems to be in charge of all that is going on.
she sees me and makes a gesture that i should join the others.
the others are to my left up against the far wall. separated from the table by the vast expanse of carpet. they are all sitting cross legged on the floor. waiting.
i join them.
the woman in charge is speaking loudly into a phone.
'tell him to get here asap, bruce will be coming to speak very shortly we are just giving out some toys for the boys.'
a couple of people have materialised and they are walking along the lines of seated people giving out stuff.
my turn comes and i take what is a largeish clear plastic spoon - there is a design etched into it. i have done something wrong as the person handing them out gives me a withering look. he explains something to me and does it again, i get a pair of spoons this time.
looking at the design i can see it is an image from a bruce movie.
the woman next to me is also looking at her spoon and we get chatting about the films that we can see in the spoons.

dream change.

then i am entering a classroom. i am late.
aside from the teacher i am the oldest person there, by far. i am not sure what the class is, or even why i am there (i have a feeling i am doing an undercover sting operation or something like that ((this dream occurred after hearing reports that the daily telegraph had gone undercover to find out that teachers are getting advise about passing exams)).
i have a notebook out. waiting for something to happen.
the class seems to be an introductory one.
the lecturer a smallish man in a very grey suit with larger than normal pinstripes and purple shirt and hankie, looking like jimmy krankie has given birth to robin williams, is talking about getting supplies from the stationery cupboard but be aware that the lady in charge is a 'lemoneer'.
he then stops and with a smile that has too many teeth asks if we know what a 'lemoneer' is.
no one is prepared to answer.
i put my hand up and say i have never heard of the word but would guess that it means someone who is tough to deal with and has a sting in their tongue.
he says yes.
behind me a mature female student congratulates me.


the alarm goes. end of dream.

when dreaming of the wwe it is better to dream of a diva

so there i am deep in the dream and i am woken up because i need to do something, only i am still in the dream and what i need to do is go and let dave batista into my flat.
it is dark outside, probably 5am or something like that.
i stagger to the front door trying to put my jeans on and make myself decent, also trying not to wake my mum who is asleep on the couch.
i get to the door and it is open, which is odd and worrying.
dave batista is coming up the stairs - someome has let him into the block.

scene change.

we are in a gym. batista is working out. i am there as either his trainer, manager or just hanger on.
he is doing lots of exercises - his body seems to be somewhere between pumped human and something rob liefeld would draw. he is doing some sort of skipping exercise with this big rope that looks like it is made of packing tape rolled into a rope like substitute.

whoever i am talking to we are discussing batista's up and coming fight, while he is being busy exercising.

that is pretty much all that happens in it.
still it beats the one where i was trying to save a spaceship while trying to find my lost glasses.

27/10/10 Dream

Just woken from a dream where I was saying (To who? Don't know):

"The trouble with women is that they don't listen...

...they don't listen and they're not happy."

Don't even get me started on this one...

I dreamed the rain was coming down in the house, I was looking everywhere for containers to catch the drips and streams. Searching around the kitchen I hear the sound of the rain streaming own outside the back door. I open the door and look out, the rain falling down over the garden, on the washing on the lines throwing a misty veil over the pampas grass. I realise that the rain isn't the only noise, that there's a watery throbbing a pulling of shingle over the fence to my left. I peer up to look and see the sea is in the garden next door, it looks like it's flooded a construction site and bundles of huge yellow plastic pipes and timber are floating around, the waves are washing right up to the first floor windows of the neighbours house and the only thing between us and the sea is the garden fence. I think to myself that I had better close the back door, then I realise that over there is the ocean and that the door is not going to keep it out if it wants to come in.

i dreamt that my beloved kitty was riding on the back of my daughters cat ( I HATE this cat )
My Lucy cat was waving at me as the hated cat trotted her around ..

random dream

Im with my son and my daughter at Conrads house ( with his small daughter )
and its totally awkward ..
glad that was a dream