Sometimes I have a dream so compelling that I have to go back to sleep to finish it off. Sometimes, it seems like the reason I want to sleep is to dream more. Sometimes, looking back at the dream, the symbols within it are, in fact, my subconscious trying to remind me to wake up. When people talk about realising their dreams, they probably don't mean the following, which I'm trying to patch together from memory before it flies away, like a scared duck.
... and then I woke up. What a pointless ending to a dream.
I was in a lazy mood. I had a journey to make and walking was a bit too much effort. There were a few hills involved, and some of the ground underfoot was a bit rocky. Luckily, in case things got dusty, I had a sweeping brush. Even luckier than that, I had a sort of simplistic electric wheelchair.
The electric wheelchair was basically a black leather-style padded seat with a seat belt - a lap belt in fact, and a motor. It had two settings - on and off. You could sit in it, turn the motor on, and it would trundle forwards. If you wanted to steer it, you were in trouble. You could stick your legs out, or stop the motor and steer the chair yourself. This was not a conventional wheelchair.
I sat in the chair with my sweeping brush on my lap and used it to climb a hill, scattering some other pedestrians - orthodox jews, I think - as I went. I reached the brow of the rocky hill and there was a brown dusty path ahead. As I trundled onto it, I wondered whether the sweeping brush could be used for steering.
At this point I think I also remembered that I was due at a gig in Darlington, run by the promoter of a comedy club that won't normally book me. It was after 8pm and I reckoned I was due at the gig at 9pm, at the latest, and I didn't even know the address of the venue, or how to find it out. However, I was having fun with my sweeping brush steering mechanism. Hold the brush straight for forwards, and turn it left or right to go that way. Tighter turning circles could be achieved by bringing the brush head nearer the chair, and more stable course corrections could be achieved by extending the brush to full stretch. The sweeping action also left a nice swept mark on the dust floor.
So enamoured was I of my new invention that I stopped at a nearby house to demonstrate it. I think that I believed the occupants of the house to run some sort of shop which might be able to sell this invention. Given the time of day, the people in the house were busy doing other things. I took my shoes AND socks off at the door and tried to convince the lady of the house to come up and see my special invention, which she might want to market. After a lot of to-ing and fro-ing, along with squeezing through some tight gaps in their rather packed out hall, I eventually managed to get some interest in maybe seeing this undisclosed invention of mine.
Then I started to realise how frivolous my "sweeping brush steering for wheelchair" was and how it was unmarketable. I changed my description of it from "something really good", to "something that will make you laugh". I also noticed that the time was really passing by and I was still no closer to my gig. Would a sweeping brush steered electric wheelchair get me there?
We squeezed back upstairs, past all the obstacles in the hall, I managed to get my socks on, I was putting my shoes on too...
The electric wheelchair was basically a black leather-style padded seat with a seat belt - a lap belt in fact, and a motor. It had two settings - on and off. You could sit in it, turn the motor on, and it would trundle forwards. If you wanted to steer it, you were in trouble. You could stick your legs out, or stop the motor and steer the chair yourself. This was not a conventional wheelchair.
I sat in the chair with my sweeping brush on my lap and used it to climb a hill, scattering some other pedestrians - orthodox jews, I think - as I went. I reached the brow of the rocky hill and there was a brown dusty path ahead. As I trundled onto it, I wondered whether the sweeping brush could be used for steering.
At this point I think I also remembered that I was due at a gig in Darlington, run by the promoter of a comedy club that won't normally book me. It was after 8pm and I reckoned I was due at the gig at 9pm, at the latest, and I didn't even know the address of the venue, or how to find it out. However, I was having fun with my sweeping brush steering mechanism. Hold the brush straight for forwards, and turn it left or right to go that way. Tighter turning circles could be achieved by bringing the brush head nearer the chair, and more stable course corrections could be achieved by extending the brush to full stretch. The sweeping action also left a nice swept mark on the dust floor.
So enamoured was I of my new invention that I stopped at a nearby house to demonstrate it. I think that I believed the occupants of the house to run some sort of shop which might be able to sell this invention. Given the time of day, the people in the house were busy doing other things. I took my shoes AND socks off at the door and tried to convince the lady of the house to come up and see my special invention, which she might want to market. After a lot of to-ing and fro-ing, along with squeezing through some tight gaps in their rather packed out hall, I eventually managed to get some interest in maybe seeing this undisclosed invention of mine.
Then I started to realise how frivolous my "sweeping brush steering for wheelchair" was and how it was unmarketable. I changed my description of it from "something really good", to "something that will make you laugh". I also noticed that the time was really passing by and I was still no closer to my gig. Would a sweeping brush steered electric wheelchair get me there?
We squeezed back upstairs, past all the obstacles in the hall, I managed to get my socks on, I was putting my shoes on too...
... and then I woke up. What a pointless ending to a dream.
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