I don't think I'm very well. I need help. It's dawn and I'm writing this while it is fresh in my mind in the hope that one of you amateur psychiatrists out there can offer an explanation. You see, and I might just be sharing a little too much here, last night I dreamt about Mick Channon! What the fuck's that all about?
I was down at Mick's stables just outside Southampton - I've no bleedin' idea where his stables really are, but last night they were there - and I was riding shotgun for the very-soon-to-be ex-Mrs Pither. She had been called in by the grinning, cheeky former Southampton and England striker-turned top horse racing trainer to tie up the loose ends over a deal to buy some thoroughbreds. Quite why STB EW should have been asked for help in matters equine is a mystery to me - the only horse she has any knowledge of is me (fnaar, fnaar!)
Anyway, Mrs P disappeared immediately to do her thang which left me seemingly alone in Channon Towers, wandering around like a spare part until I bumped into Mick. Despite this being "in the now" (whatever that is in dreams) he did not look as he does these days but instead was exactly as I remember him at the height of his playing career in the '70s. Not surprisingly, Mick asked what the fuck I was doing in his house and, once I had explained, I followed him on a long walk out into the countryside to see some of his horses. Along the way we passed a herd of sheep (these definitely weren't in a flock, but a herd), all of which had been spray-painted with some sort of colourful Cubist designs, which Mick simply dismissed with the words "cute, ain't they?"
His horses - about a dozen of them - were kept in a hole dug in the side of a hill on the South Hams and they were all about the size of Labrador dogs. When I queried whether they might not be too small to ride, even given the diminutive stature of normal jockeys, young Michael merely laughed and looked knowingly at another bloke who had mysteriously appeared from somewhere.
Suddenly - that happens in dreams - I was back at Channon Towers, all alone. I was desperate to take a leak and while searching for the toilet I saw Mrs Channon coming out of a room, to the sound of a cistern flushing. "Ah, a toilet! Thank God," I thought and duly went into the room to discover about 25 different appliances, all of which looked vaguely like toilets - only weren't! I wandered (I did a lot of wandering last night) through this maze of bogus bogs until I found one that looked more like a loo than the others and, as I unzipped and prepared to pull the beast from its lair, I caught sight of a well dressed woman out of the corner of my eye.
She hadn't seen me, so my blushes were saved, and I decided to ask her where the loo was but as I walked towards her I realised she was some sort of sales assistant. Then, looking around again, I realised I was, in fact, in a large and very plush department store!
The next thing I knew a small dog was licking my face. That turned out not to be part of the dream. A small dog REALLY WAS licking my face. It was my Tilly, asking to be let out, strangely enough so she could go for a pee (spooky).
I am, unsurprisingly, somewhat perturbed by last night's visions and so would welcome any possible interpretations.
Yours,
Confused,
Outside Grantham.
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5 comments:
Easy.
Mike Channon represents your uncle Arnold, the sheep are repressed desires to eat boiled cauliflower, and the toilets are symbols of your lack of sporting discrimination.
I hope that this helps.
I've got sad news for you Reg - YOU'RE NORMAL!! Mick Channon was, and probably still is, a likable personality who played decent football, stayed loyal to The Saints when they were relegated, and caused no offence to anybody (as I recall). If only ones night-time demons always spoke in that lovely West Country accent.
it's all very penile in the final offing, isn't it? horses, bathrooms, weeing, horses, soccer players and weeing. small horses in a cave in particular is very telling indeed, reg.
eat less pizza right before bedtime. and maybe lay off the lsd.
Hmmm...dreaming about horses is very telling! To see a horse in your dreams represents strong physical energy. I'll let you decide what type of physical energy! Depending on the color of the horse could mean anything from mystery or wildness (for dark horses) to purity and good fortune (a white horse). If you're being chased by a white horse means you're having trouble dealing with intimacy and sexuality. I'm not sure what a little horse in a cave means. But it could be rather interesting!
To think you're dreaming about a small dog licking your face means you've been in bed too long. Get up and let that poor baby out!!
Rosie sends a warm hello to Tilly!! And to you!
The Dell was one of the few away grounds you could go to in the 70s without fearing for your life.
Channon's windmill goal celebration was OK the first couple of times, but then it just got irritating.
Could've been worse, you could have dreamed about Terry Paine and John McGrath.
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