I woke this morning extremely tired because I had one of those really real dreams. In this dream I was out until 5am drinking like a fish. Even in my dream I was giving out to myself saying ‘You stupid cunt, out till 5am drinking and you know you have to get up in a couple of hours. When will you ever learn?’
So I woke up with a hangover and that empty, hollow feeling you get when you haven’t had enough sleep, even though the reality is that I was asleep before midnight and all I had to drink was a shifty gin & tonic (slice of orange, natch).
I didn’t get the boost I got the week before last when I dreamt that the lead singer of Living in a Box was responsible for the BP oil spill. In an effort to ingratiate myself with an American man who was thinking of investing in my portable heart transplant business I hunted him down and killed him. However, instead of everyone being really happy with me for two reasons (I’d got the bloke who started the oil spill and killed a terrible 80s act) they were all really cross and sentenced me to life in prison on Spike Island.
Waking up from that one was a bit of a relief, especially as Barry Egan was the Warden at the prison. If there’s anything worse than being denied freedom for the rest of your life it’s knowing that Barry Egan can make your life more miserable.
I’d tie the sheets together and dangle from the window bar if that were my future.
barry egan. what a useless piece of skin. couldve been worse – was gavin friday the governer twenty?
and did you see ol’ holy joe on telefis eirean last night – little oul ones pressing envelopes of cash into his paw. cunt
sleep drinking. if the lads in ron’s start complementing you on your natty paisley pyjamas, elegant dreesing gown and the fact you can see too much through the gap in the front when you sit down, you know what’s been happening
Eat cheese before you go to bed and dream the dreams of the demented.
So much cheaper than drugs.
“eat cheese” but only if it has the national dairy council sticker on it (don’t eat the sticker – not safe for animals). poor old paul o’connell would be devastated otherwise – twat
“I’d tie the sheets together and dangle from the window bar if that were my future.”
Go out in a blaze of strangulated wanking?
Barry would certainly like that.
heh, he’d lap at my deathly discharge
Strangulated wanking! HA! Doin the Hutchence Shuffle…. aka the Carradine Crank
The lead singer of Living in a Box was Richard Darbyshire. I wish I didn’t know that right off the top of my head.
What a pimple on the arse of humanity that Egan Cunt is…
He fell off of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.
“The lead singer of Living in a Box was Richard Darbyshire.”
I wonder where he is now. It’d be ironic if he were homeless, wouldn’t it?
‘tie the sheets together and dangle from the window bars’
would like to see Jedward do this in my dreams or preferably in real life
I wonder where he is now. It’d be ironic if he were homeless, wouldn’t it?
heh
Richard is still involved in the music industry, developing new artists and working closely with girlfriend and vocal coach Sonia Jones, running a successful songwriting and vocal coaching workshop.
http://new.uk.music.yahoo.com/blogs/where_are_they_now/292/living-in-a-box/
you would have to take out egan’s eyes and cut off his fingers before taking the plunge, one final selfless act!
Used to get the teeth falling out dream a lot. Not so much these days. They’re awful.
Oh. now I remember I had vaguely bad dreams this morning. I don’t remember what they were but now I have a disconcerted feeling.
It’s not half so poetic as yours.
Mostly I forget my dreams, especially the cinematic efforts. Even so they leave you feeling something during the day, mood affecting almost. Odd.
Used to get the teeth falling out dream a lot. Not so much these days. They’re awful.
Oh, I had that one last week. You’ve just reminded me of it.
I used to have flying dreams where I could hoosh myself up off the ground and then fly above all the houses and into town. I was always paranoid about hitting the ESB cables – an example of my creative mind fighting with my cautious mind.
Story of my life.
Teeth falling out are classic. Nasty, though. The closest I’ve got to dreaming of flying is a glide downhill through soft pink cloud, but only about 6 inches off the ground :)
HM, maybe the ESB cables represent the boundaries of Ireland, and how they hold you back. Fly above them!
Once that new legislation is in someone will do for Egan, “He was here on a pretext and I caught him pilfering my life story.”
im sure i do dream but i never remember them its really fucking annoying
I get the teeth falling out dream quite regularly.
Glad it’s not just me.
I saw possibly the worst film I’ve ever seen last night and it was about dreams. Inception. Two and a half hours of total tripe, similar to Bertie Ahern in not having one redeeming feature. Shame; I’m a fan of Di Caprio.
I wonder is that a genuine worry about teeth falling out or symbolic of something else.
Itchy – no surprise, for 2 reasons.
1 – Most of his other films are fucking shite
2 – Apey like it.
Itchy,Did you and SG go on a date last night?
we did. he didn’t put out, the frigid fuck. lucky for me I brought along another gamey friend
yeah Johnny5 said something similar alright
Of course teeth dreams are symbolic, unless you’re in the middle of real life dental issues.
There’s varying explanations out there, not all terribly convincing, but one that makes a certain sense is that it’s about insecurity about trasitioning from one phase to the next – like ageing, or losing milk teeth and leaving childhood etc.
They could also be about power and force, or rather, powerlessness.
But I suppose as well, teeth are what we use to process our food with, I think I read once the dreams were about lack of control, maybe lack of ability to process or cope with what you’re dealing with.
It probably all points to anxiety in some form or other.
Funny, I’ve had two glowing recommendations from bright and reputable sources… different strokes…
I don’t go to third base on a first date…
Footloose, we’re footloose…
Jo, ’twas the equivalentof somebody shouting LOOK HOW CLEVER I AM at you for 2 and half hours, while playing repetitive shite techno at you.
Shudder.
Jo Says:
July 20th, 2010 at 1:54 pm
Funny, I’ve had two glowing recommendations from bright and reputable sources… different strokes…
That’s what Cowen said about the Neary advice on Anglo and the Bertie advice on the Bertie Bowl. Though strokes is the operative word with FF.
SG? Did you get the flowers I sent this a.m.?
Boing
Boing
Boing
practical advice
http://www.cracked.com/blog/how-to-control-your-dreams/
If you think a crappy bunch of geraniums from the garage are going to win me around, you’re sadly deluded.
that’s ok SG; it’s the thought that counts though eh?
for all you teethgrinders
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oH_yivWallk
on another note, The Killer Inside Me is an excellent film. 10/10
The Joe Duffy Soundboard
http://clamnuts.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/The-Joe-Duffy-Soundboard1.swf
Havn’t had a dream in a long time
See, the life I’ve had
Would make a good man bad
Tra la la la la la la la la
had you a bad dream bull’ i dont dream bird
Fuck, what films DO ye like?