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13.07.2005 - 8:39 p.m.

The following three dreams were all experienced while in Fuerteventura while sleeping on the world's most uncomfortable pillows, no really, they were awful.

I think in the end I found about sixteen square inches of a pillow three feet long which was soft enough to lay my noggin on, I�m sure this was the contributing factor to a week of really weird nights, and these three are just the ones I could remember�.

No.1
So I�m sat in a normal, slightly aged feeling english pub, nothing special, slightly naff d�cor and a few people sat around drinking, its just after lunch and all is good. Then Lemmy (lead singer with Motorhead) comes in with a mate, they get a drink and sit down. At this time everyone�s nudging each other and looking at them, Lemmy notices this and says yeah, it�s him he�s just having a drink like everyone else, pay no attention, the inhabitants take this on board and go back to their conversations. When he�s finished he (and mate) get up, thanks the pub for giving him some space and goes out the door, I follow to see him getting into (alright folding himself into. Lemmy�s quite tall) a one quarter scale, english diesel train (circa 1976) which is parked up on the road next to the pub, his mate gets into a caboose attached to the train and they drive off with his mate waving out the back of the caboose.

No. 2
Errol Flynn and Oliver Hardy having a good natured sword fight, smiles all round, I�m just watching from the sidelines, I think the setting was �old english castle� but I�m not sure.

No. 3
I�m in a reception, fairly normal, not too big, pale colour scheme, tiled floor, and a largish slightly curved reception desk the same colour as the walls. Facing the desk is a wide set of automatic sliding glass doors and outside is a hot day, blue skies etc.

About forty metres away a UN truck pulls up, a man of Mediterranean appearance gets out and starts hosing down the glass doors with an AK. Everyone in the reception drops to the floor as bullets rip through the glass doors, amazingly the mass of the glass stays in the frame but holes are punched through it. The gunfire seems to go on for an eternity. I notice that lots of the other people in the reception have camera�s (they might even be journalists) I also notice that although I�m in direct line of the gunman (albeit lying flat on the floor) none of the bullets are hitting me, I take this a sign to try and move away from the doors and over to the wall.

At this time I notice a second man who�s still sat in the cab of the truck (it�s right hand drive too and looks like a British army Bedford (but white)) and I�m thinking �why is he still in it� the only answer I can come up with is that the truck is a giant bomb and if his mate gets plugged the bomb goes off.

I woke up before the conclusion of the scenario, but the sense of relief when I realised no rounds were hitting me was pronounced, as was the wave of bowel loosening fear when I realised the truck might be a bomb.

As an English person I�ve developed (or inherited) a strange emotional detachment to terrorism, I don�t feel terror, bombs go off periodically and I thank my stars that no-one I know was caught in them. Thankfully these occasions are becoming less frequent now that the IRA have calmed down, Islamist muppets are becoming a problem but their influence here in blighty is minor, last weeks events were perpetrated by a few and it�s hopeful that now they�ve made their point it will be a while before it happens again.

The dream, with its blue skies and pale colours made me think of Israel, where the possibility of being toasted by a loony is a real threat every day. We don�t hear about the daily events in Israel over here, the single gunmen who sneak into the housing complexes, and the lone bombers, it�s just not �News� anymore. We think we have a stiff upper lip ?

I�m not turning all �pro jewish� because the whole situation has been repeatedly fucked up by politicians since WWII, and there�s very little hope of peace in the middle east until more moderate opinions prevail ( I reckon about a hundred years from now ) by which time everyone on both sides will be sick and tired of the sectarian violence, and the whole situation will resolve itself.

It�d be nice if I was around to see my predictions come true but I�d be surprised if I am ( I�ll also be equally surprised if I reach that age and I can do anything but dribble into my porridge )

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