Pritt Stick

This blog has been known to include elements of amateur philosophical discussion. Today, I present to you the most amateurish philosophical notion thus far.

Lastnight, I dreamt of Bertrand Russell. That’s right, Russell of the teapot worshipping crowd.

I am not Russell’s biggest fan. Being a philosophical phillistine, I don’t need to be.

Lastnight my ignorance manifest itself in a dream of Russell, brought back to life in the body of what can only be described as decomposing Bette Davis.

Imagine – haunted by my own subconscious.

Even in my dream, I knew there was something wrong; some tacit gender issues afoot. Women aren’t called Bertrand! Thus I am now adding both Russell and Davis to my list of Dreamed About Celebrities.

Surely everyone has one of these? Please let me know – especially if your celebrities inhabit the bodies of other celebrities.

So far, mine include:

David Bowie – twice. Once in a press conference, where he was playing tracks from a new album to a selection of journalists on a black grand piano – pretty much like his appearance in Extras; except that he sang The Jean Genie (at my request) instead of Fat Little Journalist. In my second Bowie dream, I was in the front row of a festival he was headlining. He totally looked at me.

Similarly, I met Alanis Morissette at a rock concert. Thankfully she wasn’t playing, just in the audience. She told me to shut up because I was trying to grab her attention. She just wanted to rock out.

I have never dreamt of Joni Mitchell. Sometimes her music plays in my head while I’m asleep, so she gets a special mention on this list. IMDB include soundtrack contributors, so why shouldn’t I?

I dreamt also of Annabel Goldie, months before even considering interviewing her. I was on a train, and she sat next to me. I had started interviewing – on the sly – when she turned her attention to another guy with Downs Syndrome, and I lost my interview. Obviously speaking to the disabled would look far better for this otherworldly politician than some second rate Fat Little Journalist to any REAL media players who may have been watching.

Since then, I really did interview Annabel; and haven’t been able to look a downie in the face. God I hate them.

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3 responses to “Pritt Stick

  1. Little Miss Catticus

    hey!! It’s snowing on your page!! If you did that, you’re so cool.

    If not, well fuck you: I didn’t read your blog :-p

  2. When I was about to turn nine years old or so, I dreamed that I unwrapped a huge box and out came the Hanson Brothers.
    When I was thirteen I dreamed Buddy Holly was still alive and that we were best friends who would play in the snow together.
    Recently I dreamed I met Barack Obama, we were in the desert of Las Vegas and his trailer was next to mine; we sat next to each other around a campfire and roasted marshmallows and hot dogs.
    Either it’s common to dream of meeting celebrities, or we’re together in our difference.

  3. The Forever Dreamer

    I had a dream once that i was Anthony Perkins being all creepy-like and murderously hot.. then i woke up and it was true… do you still love me?

    All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.

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