Pug I understand the situation,
I have thoughts above my station
When I’m not writing alliteration
Pug I understand your reasoning
Gabriel’s moody , there’s just no pleasing him
I’m getting ready in case he early calls me in
Pug your granny sounds like quite a gal
Proud to address you as Pug my pal
I’ve run out of “AL” endings
So my very best wishes I am sending
… time for my cocoa
My apologies friends, that other post of mine should have read the Indians don’t attack in the night time, not the daytime as I typed, twas a lack of communication between the brain and the fingers but I’m sure you guessed what I meant.
I suppose it’s like if you wanted to go to the Moon you would have to go at night time otherwise you wouldn’t see it and go right past it. 
They say anything is possible in dreams, but I doubt that, in all my 71 years of dreaming I never once dreamed that I was a woman, I was always either boy or man. I always wanted to know how the opposite sex thought and perhaps dreaming as a female would give me a few hints. The reason for this was I was writing a short story for my own amusement about a girl apprentice jewellery polisher who caught her long raven hair on the spindle of a polishing motor, tearing a huge clump of hair straight from her scalp, I’d already seen this happen with a long haired male polisher who always refused to wear the headgear.
So one night to get me in the mood before I nodded off I read four of my young sisters “School Friend” comics, I tried to put myself into the mind of the goofy Dilly Dreem, some of the ladies would remember her, but it was all in vain, something went haywire in the brain and I ended up dreaming I was a eunuch in a Turkish harem. I woke up in terror but a swift investigation down below assured me everything was OK.
Strange how the transition from man to woman can be done in real life but not in dreams, well not in my attempts anyway.
well you’ve given us a lot of food for thought there Dr Jem I have reoccuring dreams of unrequited love which starts of promising and fizzled out in a sad farewell - will this affect my future libido and can I hope to do a “charlie chaplin” one day?
Tiresias beat you to that Jem.
I’ve often dreamt of unrequited sex but not love (still get such dreams in fact) but I ain’t dreamt of being one of the opposite sex. I might be missing out on something here and just reading the last few posts might well unlock some repressed desires. Who knows tonight might be quite entertaining as a result .
Ok,ohhhhh-kay…so,as usual on this forum,I’M the weird one.
To my sentient knowledge,I have dreamed just three times.
Each time,the dream was precisely the same.
I know NOW,that prescience was evident in those three dreams,as very shortly after the third time,my life imploded,shattered,fell apart.
It wasn’t a good time,my existence even now hasn’t fully recovered from the shit life can so unexpectedly throw-but-I do now believe in precognition.
That dream,repeated three times in precise and exact replication,showed me-PROVED to me,that we mere mortals have SO very much going on in the ‘back of our minds’…and that,when an ‘inkling’ or a ‘gut feeling’ is striving to be listened to - we should.
Insomnia too Pug, it’s a bugga.
I dream in vivid color and tortuously complicated
I think what you say is valid. In my earlier years I had prophetic dreams, but mostly they were and are anxiety based. One dream was my teeth fell out, that was accurate
I also have brilliant ideas and for a time kept a pencil and notebook by my hammock. Each morning I’d check to see what was written. In fact the only sensible lightbulb moment was the following cryptic scribble.
The next big thing will be arranging large circles of orange jelly in every house… doh
RJ, I hope you are not having a Wobbly, dreams are linked to events, after watching Corrie the other night, I dreamt my Son was trying to kill me, but sometimes there is no link, funny you should mention Jelly, I once dreamt I filled next doors living room, with Jelly, Blancmange, and Hundreds and Thousands, but, I managed to reason this out having played Trifial Pursuit there previously.
A very warm and hearty welcome to you MKJ, I’d know your style anywhere.;-)
I agree with Pug, there is more going on behind the scenes as it were.
I’ve always been very interested in dreams, it’s the closest we come to death without actually dying, practically everything shuts down except the heart, i think the brain takes a holiday and goes wherever it likes, sometimes a good holiday and other times a bloody nightmare.
I think we know very little about brain behaviour anyway, especially during sleeping and dreaming, some of the best inventions have come from dreams, in my opinion we should know a lot more about it in these modern times, in the meantime we can just continue to take the piss out of the “experts”, keeps them on their toes and spurs them on. Dream on McDuff.
Oh God!, I’m getting very self conscious about posting now, nearly 15,000! anyway here’s another one then I’m over me quota so I’ll very carefully zip up for the day. ;-)
I really do love my sleep, I have such pleasant dreams lately that I hate waking up, when I’m dead I’ll be the happiest man on the planet, asleep forever, sheer bliss, my heart bleeds, pardon the pun, for the poor unfortunate Vampires who roam the earth for all eternity, what a terrible thought is eternal life.
I had harems on me brain last night before I dropped off to sleep.
So I dreamed I was in a harem in old Bagdad, I was in my mid thirties in the dream, I had made a pair of diamond earrings for the Suntan’s wife, I don’t know what she is called but Noel Coward once asked “Is a Suntan’s wife called a Sultana?” whatever she’s called she loved the earrings and asked the Sultan to reward me. His brother the Caliph took me in hand, he had just returned from a congress of Caliph fornians, where I believe Caliph fornication was widespread. Anyway I was taken to his private baths and bathed by several naked young girls, quite embarrassing really especially for a shy modest chap like meself, after that I was taken to his personal wardrobe and asked to pick what I wanted to wear, all his stuff was far too big for me so I just keep me jocks on under a dressing gown. As I entered the harem proper and nestled in between two ample bosomed maidens the door suddenly slammed and I woke up, The wife had left the bedroom door open as she was too warm and a breeze from the open window caught it and closed it with a bang. I was cranky as I ate my breakfast, not like me at all, and I couldn’t tell her what was annoying me, the dream was so real it was unbelievable, talk about being halfway to Paradise.:twisted:
Isn’t it amazing how the sounds that wake one out of a dream always seem to fit into that dream, a door banging, a shoe dropping, an alarm clock etc., I remember in one dream I was blowing up a huge party balloon and suddenly it burst, the wife had just farted at exactly the same time.
With reference to all the above posts regarding dreams-one can postulate only that the brain is a LOT busier than a thick,dim,unevolved primate such as moi can or will,ever fully realise. After all,a brain,by definition,is at work every nanosecond of every minute of every hour [etc] of our lives…so why should we ever think that what we’re thinking isn’t what we’re freely thinking,but is instead,what the brain has decided will be thought,as a protection against it ever being fully understood. Maybe we NEED not to know exactly how the brain formulates what is safe for a mere human [the average human uses just 10% of the brain’s aggregational processing power,according to neuro-biologists] or,perhaps,what causes those who ‘flip’ and live outside the acceptable boundaries of humanity [Joseph Fritzl,for instance] whils’t seeing themselves and their behaviour as perfectly normal. Which is why I’m peeling this skunk…with a hammer…as I imagine Judge Rinder singing Heavy Metal Rock tunes.
I find it is best to disable the Macro function.
well each to his own skunk peeler Pug - I prefer a woolworths special - steel honed and razor sharp - can bring any skunk down in a minute. I recall Loudon Wainwright III singing “dead skunk in the middle of the road” one of my favorite renderings!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=watch?v=OTDwMMGMGu8
if this bloody website doesn’t compute and you’ve never heard of Loudon W III I recommend you view him on youtube!
A hungry traveller stopped at a monastery and was taken to the kitchens where a brother is frying chips.
“Are you the friar?” he asked.
The brother replied “No. I’m the chip monk.”
The Wife and I were out tonight, I farted, and she moved from my side to a seat, 90 degrees to my left. Had she farted, I would have shown solidarity and stayed put, regardless of the fallout, am I reading too much into a social (anti) situation.
depends if you’d been eating highly gaseous farting food - and if gas masks were providied:shock:
I’m afraid constant farting puts relationships on shaky ground Spitty, almost impossible to achieve solidarity there. However there may be some hope on the horizon, as with the peeling of skunks it is vital to remove the musk gland first, otherwise one could not proceed, the pong would be too intense, perhaps one could consult ones GP about having ones own musk gland removed? it just might be the answer and save a lot of heartache and embarrassment all round. And as the poet said “Matters not where ‘er you dwell, always like a Rose you’ll smell” 
The very odd time when I accidentally let go and she moves away I turn on iTunes and play Fats Waller singing “I don’t love love ya cos your feets too big” just to get my own back, she does have big feet you know. 
None of these postulations matter. NONE.
The truth remains,that if you have a bucket-and-chuckit,you’ll have tall rhubarb.
You can’t say tall rhubarb anymore Pug, not politically correct you see :-), besides rhubarb is a different kettle of fish, nobody eats that stuff anymore, do they? I mean what else can you do with it except make rhubarb pies, which to me are only a waste of good pastry, mix it with custard and it ruins the custard, how about rhubarb jam? rhubarb is horrible stuff I detest it, yuk!
I’m off now for a couple of pints of the real stuff, see ya later old son.;-)
reminds me of an experience I had in the back woods of Ontario were I was working a few years back - suddenly I came across a moose [male variety] we stopped for a moment and eyed each other but my musk odor mustafa matched his cos he took an instant liking to me and came over quite slowly and politely and took of me cap and chewed it - it wasn’t my hat he chewed it was his attitude! anyway we remain good friends to this day!
