My Winning Streak

I was driving home late last night in my racing green Mini Cooper, when it occurred to me that I was wearing an unbuttoned plaid shirt - and nothing else. No shoes or socks, no jeans or t-shirt, and no pants. And, whilst the shirt I had on was a fetching one, I suddenly felt very aware that it probably wasn't quite eye-catching enough to distract onlookers from the absence of the remainder of my attire. I tried to remember just exactly where I'd left my outfit, but in the panic that was now brewing, I couldn't even recall where I was travelling from, let alone where I'd made the transition from dressed to undressed. However, I was heading home, and it was late, so I could probably sneak from my car to my door without too much attention - even if I do live on a main road...

As I neared my road, it began to rain. And, as with all situations of escalating peril and drama, it wasn't just a fine drizzle caressing my car and the concrete - no no! It was a devilish downpour, pummeling and purging the pavements and panels of my Mini. Even with the windscreen wipers on their fastest setting, I was struggling to see the road. I considered stopping for a while, but worried that doing so may lead to some passerby also stopping to see if I needed any help - sure, it doesn't happen when you want it to, but you could guarantee that when you didn't...
I decided to brave it. I knew the roads well enough, and I could slow the car right down if I needed to; there was never much traffic at this hour. The occasional guy working nights, taxis on their last fare...

...a police car. And I couldn't tell for sure straight away - the rain made it difficult to make out anything but the encroaching headlights - but as it neared the rear of my snailing vehicle, it was unmistakable. Like the shadow of the school bully, it loomed over me and suddenly I remembered my situation. And, last time I checked, if asked to 'step outside the vehicle, please sir' you refused due to AWOL Calvin Kleins, claiming to be the modern day Lady Godiva, it was more likely you who'd be struck down than these uniformed 'Peeping Toms' who'd be struck blind. Whether I wanted to or not, I had to start driving at the speed limit, or I'd definitely be a cause of suspicion. I pushed my bare foot down on the cold accelerator, and continued towards home.

Thankfully, the police car turned off just as soon as it had arrived, and I made it to the home stretch without issue. Though, as I turned onto my road, everything felt all of a sudden darker. I noticed as I drove that the lampposts were all off, and there were no lights coming from inside any windows either. I could only assume there was some kind of mass power cut, perhaps bought about by the storm? Either way, this blackout boded well for my current condition: the dimmer the light to illuminate my 'naturism' the better! I pulled up outside my house, switched the engine off and was startled by the interior light switching itself on. I quickly clicked it off, eyeing my surroundings for any surreptitious souls who may have caught a glimpse of my guise. All seemed safe as I reached into my pocket for my house key...

...I was, of course, no longer wearing my trousers. And, with only the front door between me and safety, this posed a rather big problem. I couldn't possibly ring the bell! What would my parents say? What would they do?!

I looked up towards my house, when I noticed my neighbours dotted about around my door. Both panic and possibility stabbed at my stomach: two teenage girls and their father from one side, and an elderly gent from the other. The panic was that this was more people I had to hide from. The possibility was that someone would now have to come and answer the door, which gave me an opening - a very slight one, admittedly, but an opening nonetheless. If I could somehow sneak in alongside this gaggle, I could make it upstairs to my room (and to clothes! Sweet, sweet boxer shorts!) and no-one would be any the wiser.

I had to try. I recalled I had a large bag in my boot; a 'bag for life' full of microphones and cables from a gig I'd played at the weekend. I could wander up to the door using that to shield and shelter my shame, and hopefully the presence of my shirt would be enough, in this light, to limit any suspicions. I fastened my shirt and made my move, feeling the rainwater on my bare body as I heaved the bag from the boot and began up the driveway. As I pattered through the puddles towards my door, it flung open and my neighbours dashed in, only the eldest sister giving me a swift glance as she stepped in: she noticed nothing. I waited momentarily for them to clear the entrance and step further into my hallway, then I took a sly peek inside. They were at the kitchen door at the other end of the room, and so I made for the staircase. As I ascended, I threw the bag to my side and ran, knowing now that, if anyone were to see, all they'd catch in this muted lighting was a flash of bare leg, which was the least of my worries. I opened my bedroom door and jumped straight into some shorts: my ordeal was very much over!

The power must have come back on during my dressing, as when I crossed into the next room my friend was sitting there, printing something off with my computer. He'd been texting this girl for a few weeks now, and was printing off the messages for further analysis. He wasn't really sure if she was as serious about beginning a relationship as he was, and felt if he looked over the language used and amount of kisses per text, he'd get a better, more general idea of whether or not his endeavours were falling flat on their face. We spoke for a while about the whole situation: I was convinced he was definitely the one doing all the chasing, and that, if anything, she wasn't entirely convinced this was anything more than a bit of fun. But, I couldn't convince him of this, so decided to head out - I'd been invited to the house-warming of a friend of a friend.

The house was beautiful, and had a very Spanish feel to it. The weather was warming up nicely too, and I was very much looking forward to the forthcoming festivities. I tried the front door but it was bolted shut, so I grabbed the vines that were hanging harmlessly from the balcony and began my climb to the top. I flung my leg over the ornate fencing that bordered the balcony, and heaved myself over. I stood and dusted myself down, seeing the party had already started: there were people drinking, chatting, sharing a glass of champagne in the hot tub. I soon found my friend amongst the medley of minglers and we tried to speak, but the music was suddenly overbearing, so he took me to one side. I asked him who the house belonged to, and he hollered to a man who was, at this point, surrounded by scantily-clad women. He slided his way over to us, and we shook hands. He had a very strong handshake, and as we exchanged greetings I could feel his eyes making decisions about me, as if his initial interpretation of me was the work of long years researching and studying my behaviour. He placed his arms around our shoulders and led us outside again to the balcony.

It was empty now, and the sun was setting. Everything was a golden river. He reached into his back pocket, removing a small bag of powder, and began divvying it out on the tabletop. I'd never snorted drugs before, and as he passed my a rolled up £50 note, I hesitated. He looked at me again, and I looked to my friend. He was already nostril-deep in the drug, and I felt inclined to follow suit. As I inhaled the substance, all the golds and glistening gimcracks surrounding me began to surf in and out of focus, and all my worries wormed around inside my eyelids when I blinked. I could hear the music growing louder, growing more mellow, getting closer, and as I laughed and smiled to my friend...

I woke up. It was 10:04 and the wind outside was walloping my window.

I apologise if a) you thought this was a real story, or b) you thought it was a fictitious one that I ended in the worst way possible, but it's been such a long time since I had a very vivid dream, and I decided to get it down on paper (albeit the virtual kind). Dreams are so interesting and wonderful, and I do fully intend on trying to understand just what made me have this one this morning. I wonder how long I was dreaming for - the dream's time-frame itself is, as always, convoluted and dissolved, but it felt like it lasted so much longer than it does when I'm remembering it. Almost as if each event has the same kind of weight to it as a real-life event; alive with all the thoughts, feelings, senses, worries, pleasures and pains we encounter every second of every day.

And I've read Freud. I've read Broks. I've read Borges. I've watched documentaries, read articles, listened to psychologists and scientists. And, no matter how much you think you know about dreaming...you don't really 'know' anything. Sure, it could be coded events from my recent life replaying and rewinding, unwinding in my unconscious and dealing with my regressions and repressions. And, sure, it could just be misfiring electronic signals and sparks in my brain, which I attempt to give birth to using the everyday images and thoughts that it just so happens to trigger. Hell, it could even be an alternate version of me in an alternate world, and just one (or several) of those forking paths merging into the current path I'm walking on. Or, better yet, it could be real-life, and in my dream I'm writing this blog about it. But I'm not so sure about that...

...though, if that is the case, if anyone does know where I left my clothes and you happen to be sharing this dream with me, do let me know.

So, what about you guys? Any dreams lately? Any theories about dreaming?

Do share!