A couple of months ago, I dreamt that I saw Gerard Houllier walking down parliament street in York. He had his big overcoat on, and his trusty red scalf. He was listening to his ipod, and in a world of his own. I stopped him and he was reluctant to stop to talk to me, but eventually did. I told him that most of us wanted him to succeed but he had to stop pissing about playing heskey, playing negative football and stop lying to us through the press. I also told him that he was losing the fans, and the majority of them, despite them wanting him to succeed, wanted him to leave because of the afore mentioned problems. He seemed to take this on board. I gave him a bear hug and we went our separate ways.
Remembered a dream that I had totally forgotten about. Maire and I were in bed together (and I must stress, for the purposes of my girlfriend, her husband and Maire herself, there was no sex) in my old flat in balham opposite the devonshire pub. Then Maire just turned to me and started to tell me how she wasn’t really irish, but was in fact, a German spy, and the whole oirish accent thing was a ruse.
Whilst I was still in a state of shock, a cat crawled across the bed, and said something sarcastic to make me realise that this feline, this cat was in fact Paulie Paul.
Sadly it wasn’t Paul dressed up in a big comedy cat suit like they used to do in big train.
When I first moved to sapient from the beeb, I had a dream in the first week about wanting to go back to the bbc. They (sapient) wouldn’t let me, and later I was pushed off the seventh floor leaving me perminantly in a wheel chair.
When I returned to work, Lisa Jackson pushed me into her office and told me that because I was disabled, and the company had no facilities to cater for me, nor the inclination to sort some out, I was sacked.
Also whilst at sapient, I dreampt that ‘Uncle’ Graeme Whippy (our lovely project manager of the time) kept coming to work in pink marks and spencer shoes