Sunday, 25 May 2014

Sweet dreams are made of this..

..and who am I to disagree? I've certainly travelled the world and the seven seas (subconsciously from the comfort of my own bed). Everybody's looking for something, and I've certainly encountered a hell of a lot of people while recording my nocturnal imagery. Some of them want to use me, and some of them do indeed want to be used by me. Unfortunately some of them want to abuse me but I've yet to encounter anyone who wants to be abused so that's where the song reference ends. The word 'Eurythmics' actually means 'A system of rhythmical physical movements' by the way so it would be perfect if I did indeed move about in my sleep.

For the best part of the last 6 weeks I've been recording the noises made at night, and the results so far are, well, less than expected unfortunately. The dreams themselves are still being written down in excruciating detail and are slowly gathering in a large pile of A4 paper on my desk that will soon need its own postcode. So it's slightly disappointing to find out that whilst encountering some of the most beautiful, intriguing, incredibly detailed, disturbing, and at times just plain weird scenes that wouldn't look out of place in a John Carpenter or Stephen King novel, the conscious efforts and sounds are little more than some rapid breathing or, in most cases, total silence.

What I have discovered however, is that the people who live around me do keep some strange hours and the walls get pretty thin in the middle of the night when there's little to no background noise. Doors, car engines, dustbin wagons, birds, wind (not always just my own), rain, thunder and even someone doing the washing up at 11.30 at night have been known to make an appearance.

I keep repeating the morning ritual though, in hope that one day there'll be something exciting to show for a crazy night of dreaming. The recording is copied over to the computer for further studying (using a free program called Audacity - pretty nifty software) and poured over meticulously by yours truly with a set of headphones on and a diary to hand. The notes themselves are being uploaded daily to my webspace for more of a backup purpose than public viewing, but if you're interested they're here.

The actual dreams themselves are still in the process of being typed up - I'm about halfway through doing them. My plan is eventually to turn them into a screenplay format with cast lists and scene descriptions so they're not ready just yet, but just as an example of how incredibly detailed and vivid they are, here's the "cast list" from last night's epic 8-page thriller:

- A poodle
- A receptionist
- A policeman
- A drunk
- Three of my friends from Kalgoorlie
- A bunch of strangers taking photographs
- A woman that I work with
- A bloke I work with
- Another bloke I used to work with

- Mum
- Dad
- My Stepmother
- My sister
- My sister's friend
- My teacher from secondary school
- A barmaid
- My great-aunt
- An airline pilot
- 3 Crocodiles (no, really)
- Angelina Jolie with a chainsaw (yeah that one really confused me)

 ..and that was all in one night. There must be someone out there that can make sense of all this garbage and help me interpret what's going on, or whether an appointment as an outpatient to the local funny farm is required.