Log in

No account? Create an account

Eighties song days 4 and 5

You know, life got in the way a bit so here are days 4 and 5 together,

Let's Pretend We're Married is another Prince song about sex, but it goes off and little tangent about God and the afterlife at the end, which I find rather comforting now he's gone.

Bowie looking so full of fun and energy on the Glass Spider tour, perhaps my favourite Bowie decade isn't the 80s, but I enjoyed this at the time.

This Bank Holiday weekend I meant to go to Upton-Upon-Severn folk festival because there were loads of Morris sides there and it's only just the other side of Gloucester so about an hour away, but I just didn't feel up to it and we went to Wales on Sunday so I knew I'd have to drive for an hour then too. So we went into Bristol where the sun shone and the water sparkled.

It rained in Wales and we were driven by family to places in such a way that I missed all the bits I wanted to see and ended up at a dreary "beach" in the rain. There should be another word for 'where the sea meets the land' when it's rocks and grey water. That is not a beach in my mind!

Today I put the washing out, went to a local Mayday carnival and it poured with rain. Still I won some sweets at a Tombola and smelled the festive scent of candyfloss, burning barbecues and doughnuts cooking, saw Morris dancers (which is what I went for) and ate some home made fudge, so yummy! Hope you're enjoying the weekend too.

Eighties song day 3

Who could have predicted the strange journey of Depeche Mode? From bouncy Basildon boys to hard rocking american wannabees and huge international sellers. I love all their incarnations, especially when Martin sings.

Death of a teenage passion

In my early teens I heard Prince for the first time. Instantaenously, I fell in love with Prince and was utterly obsessed with him for 2 years. I had all the albums, the videos and kept a scrap book of cuttings, I wrote him letters (not sent) and had things I wanted to ask him, then moved on. I was a fickle child.

Those years were great though, no one else liked him at my school, they thought I was weird, but I had the music and he was my dirty little secret (that smile was filthy). I haven't kept up with his career, but have a trememdous fondness for him and I'm very sad that he's passed away so young. I guess he believed in God so I hope he's happy wherever he is now.

Also today we watched some of Orphan Black, I am (predictably) in love with Felix. Anyone else seen it and how does one insert gif? calico_pyeyou must have the knowledge...


Is there anybody out there?

So I had a couple of weeks free from dreams about old houses, but guess what? They're back. I suppose I didn't help myself by street viewing the road next to where my Grandmother lived because I couldn't remember the name of the wedding reception venue for my uncle and aunt's celebration 34 years ago, but still...

I think I'm going to write down more here that just my dreams because it is positive for me to remember the cool stuff I've done in between the drudgery and routine of life. Tomorrow I'm off to Devizes in Wiltshire to pick up something my mother bought on ebay. I hope it's not too complicated to find!

The sun is shining, having burnt off the fog, I've listened to some music , new PJ Harvey, Opened Paradise, Terminal Gods and Black Stone Cherry (I'll get back to you on the last one, but I like the others) and have a few books to pick up from the library. I've been reading an excellent short story collection about witches called Under My Hat, Tales from the Cauldron which is varied and delightful.

What are you reading/listening to/ planting in your garden?

I have been free of dreams about my grandmothers since a whistle-stop visit to Cornwall this time last week, but had a nightmare after watching an episode of Castle about a serial killer with a knife last night. Had to give myself a pep talk at 2am to say it's not true and it hasnt come from me, it's external. It didn't help that I watched some of "The Man Who Fell To Earth" again, which was on the Horror Channel recently, unnerving, but Bowie is so beautiful, it hurts.

Nathan Filion appeared in a dream recently too, and Carl McCoy, but I think I conjured the latter from reading a lot of Kim Newman who makes magic(k) seem possible.

I felt a bit cut adrift, but I realised that it was mainly because I hadn't listened to enough music and everything becomes pointless and grey without that, headphones firmly on today. Be well.


Took a while to come out of my dreams this morning. I'm usually a leap out of bed when the alarm goes off person, largely because we only had one bathroom until last year and you have to grab it while no one else is in there, but today it was more contemplative.

In my last dream I had a helicopter, it was big enough to fit 4 people in, but looked very flimsy and light. I was piloting it, I think in the hope of getting to Cornwall (had several dreams about getting home lately), but did it poorly and went back in time by mistake. Having to land the helicopter and disguise it with shrubs so the Edwardian people couldn't see it and be freaked out was an extra challenge.

In unrelated news I just read Christopher Moore's The Serpent of Venice which meshes 3 Shakespeare plays and an Edgar Allen Poe story into a funny and loveable novel. I laughed like a drain. Mothering Sunday was nice, we went to a cave in the Forest of Dean. Only 2 other people there and the quiet and dark was special.

Here is David Sylvian with BlackWater, the music and his voice are like being stroked with a feather, not like that, just sensual!

Big trouble inside my head

Watched Big Trouble in Little China last night as I was going to sleep. I remembered it as being silly and possibly offensive to Chinese people, but not scary. I reckon I'd only seen cut versions before because this had some strikingly nasty images in it even though it wasn't generally disturbing. Anyway, my mind loves to hang on to a frightening picture so I went to sleep with that in my head.

Dreamed that I was taking Mothering Sunday gifts to my grandmothers who lived a long way away. My father was driving me and we kept stopping at places where people were dressed as fluffy yellow daffodils and Easter bunnies, to ask directions and get more petrol. The journey went on for days, maybe weeks until finally I saw my grandmother in an Italian field, wearing a red headscarf. When I approached her she was gone and I woke up feeling terribly upset, knowing that I had to get away from my imagination.

I hate waking up really early on a day when I don't have to *sigh*. At least we went out to the sea today, so that was a good weekend overall.


I keep dreaming that my house (but it's not a house I've ever lived in), isn't my own and I have to leave it at short notice. I've often had dreams where I've revisited an old home and found things I left behind, but never so many dreams where I am displaced.

I am not enjoying these insecure noctural wanderings, but I think I can identify the cause. It's because of all the fences which have blown down and, as yet, have not been fixed. I called fence menders, none called back. There is only so much I can do, but I must tell myself that this will be sorted out in the near future.

Here's an Iggy Pop song.

Hair of the dog

Been to some wonderful places lately, Cornwall, where the Eden Project was much better than expected and my Dad damaged his car taking me to a holy well *feel bad about that*. To Avebury to hang with the stones and Tintern which looks magical whatever the weather. My dreams have been odd.

I was moving house in a dream and having to pack so I killed my dog as it fitted better in the box when it was dead. Then I visited our neighbours to talk about the fence and they were in funeral dress with a coffin in the dining room, as I left I accidentally knocked a woman who was breast feeding twin girls.

I'd like a more cheerful dream, I might try some lucid dreaming again

It was so windy in Cornwall because of Storm Imogen I couldn't get very close to the sea :-( , but I got to be near the stones in Wiltshire.

Dreams of Morpheus

Yesterday I read the 'new' Sandman graphic novel I had for Christmas. It brought me a dream:

I found myself in a house, it was old and had been grand, but it had been abandonded because of the presence of some bad spirits. These manifested themselves as a flickering red fire in the range, an airborne virus which changed the decor in the rooms to other times and styles without warning and water in the fountain which took all hope away. Sometimes the warmth of the fire was pleasant and the rooms looked pretty with their Victorian wallpaper and dark wood, but sometimes it was nightmarish. I coped with it, but it was bad for the children.

As the house was mine I sought help to understand the spirits and send them on their way. Neil Gaiman came, in the form of the Morpheus, tall, impossibly thin, wispy and pale, ethereal and wise beyond years. He was my great uncle, he had taught me much in the ways of spirits, but I couldn't fix these ones, he did it and I hugged him, never wanting to let him go. His presence filled me with deep happiness and contentment.

Since the house was now habitable again, I stepped beyond the garden and found we were beside the sea. In a borrowed bathing costume, mine was a dark blue bikini, I tried to enter the water, but it was full of swirling seaweed and the rocks were black and sharp. I waited for the tide so the bladderwrack, spiralwrack and knottedwrack would go back out to sea, but they stayed and I couldn't get in because the beach had turned into a concrete quay.

I awoke with Graceful Fat Sheba by Tyrannosaurus Rex in my head.