He came unto me

I had a very powerful dream last night.

Generally, I find hearing about other people's dreams really tedious. Mark Lamarr did a good stand-up bit about the kind of people that think the thoughts in their heads are of any interest to anyone else. ("And they always say the same thing: 'But this one's a really good one!'")

But, as writing a blog is essentially an exercise in self-indulgent masturbation (as opposed to heroic masturbation for the greater good), I thought I'd write about it.

I think it came as a result of reading A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and bombarding myself with religious ideas. I've spoken about religion quite a bit here recently.

Anyway, the dream was long and convoluted and distressing, and at the end of various meaningless bullshit, I found myself in a church.

I'd accidentally wondered in there, away from a talk on wrestling in another room: indy wrestler Chris Hero giving a talk about blading (cutting yourself open to draw blood). If you know Chris Hero (and I'm 100% sure you don't) the idea of him giving a presentation, perhaps with accompanying PowerPoint slides, is a good one.

So, I was in the church, and it seemed to be a Catholic ceremony (lots of Latin) and loads of people from my school were there. I was getting distressed by the service, and they were all bored by it and started giving the priest the 'slow clap' of contempt. I felt, even though I didn't want to be there, that we should be a bit more polite.

Anyway, the crux of the dream was that after all my nightmare tribulations, I tried to leave the church, but was overcome by a fit of despair and began to weep. I was right at the front of the church, overcome by sobbing.

Although I was weeping because of the situation (or because it was a stupid dream) I became terrified that the priest (who was Dax from Deep Space Nine, but that's not important) would think that I was having some kind of spiritual epiphany or revelation. Not only that, but I was afraid I WAS having something like that. I looked into the face of the statue of Jesus and was really afraid. Luckily he didn't wink or spit or anything.

So then I woke up.

Possible interpretations:

- a simultaneous respect and disdain for organised religion
- a fear of the existence of God
- a determination to hold fast in my atheism
- Terry Farrell is really God

If I was religious, I'd probably think the vividness (vividity?) of the dream meant it was a message from God. He sometimes speaks to people in dreams, apparently. Of course Chris Hero also spoke to me in a dream, so I don't know what to believe.

I've been having loads of long and densely symbolic dreams lately (dont worry, I won't write about them anymore). I don't know why. Maybe I should stop swallowing an Edam whole before going to bed.

And a whole Eagle at lunch.

***

To appease the Almighty, I'll engage in some Christmas activity.

Paul's Christmas Wish List:

A Nintendo Wii (I know you can't find them anywhere, but I'm dying to play Super Mario Galaxy. Maybe I'll steal one...)
World Peace
An end to famine
Socks
Pyramint
A secret underground cave full of cushions and high-end electronic equipment
A tiger cub
For Santa to NOT fulfil this list (Paradox! Paradox!)
A really tall hat with a snake inside

I'm rubbing my hands with anticipation.

Well, I say hands...