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Dreams.


John Matrix

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Anyone else get weird dreams about needing a piss, presumably as a result of your brain trying to tell you that you actually need to go? I get these all the time and it's always the case that in the dream I really need to go, but can't find anywhere suitable to do it. If I do find somewhere, I will often find that I just piss for ages and ages (presumably because my brain is still telling me that I need to go). I'm amazed that I haven't woken up in a puddle yet.

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I have pissed myself when I had that dream once. I was quite young, at school age. Unfortunately I was actually on a school trip at the time, on a sleeper train in a carriage with 5 other classmates. That could have been something I never lived down if I hadn't managed to get away with it (sneaking out to the loo, rinsing down and changing jeans).

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I have pissed myself when I had that dream once. I was quite young, at school age.

this happened to me once about 20 years ago and Its because of the worry of this happening again that when I go to bed if i'm awake for more than half an hour after my last piss I have to go for another one, just in case. and there's always loads of the stuff, even though I've just pissed and there was nothing left. I just accept it now - my routine is I go for a piss, clean my teeth, have another piss, go to bed.... get out a bit later and go for a piss. and if I wake up in the night even though I don't feel like I need a piss I go just in case (although if its in the middle of the night I sit down and keep my eyes closed in the belief i'll be able to get back to sleep)

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I have pissed myself when I had that dream once. I was quite young, at school age.

this happened to me once about 20 years ago and Its because of the worry of this happening again that when I go to bed if i'm awake for more than half an hour after my last piss I have to go for another one, just in case. and there's always loads of the stuff, even though I've just pissed and there was nothing left. I just accept it now - my routine is I go for a piss, clean my teeth, have another piss, go to bed.... get out a bit later and go for a piss. and if I wake up in the night even though I don't feel like I need a piss I go just in case (although if its in the middle of the night I sit down and keep my eyes closed in the belief i'll be able to get back to sleep)

 

 

 

If I wake up in the middle of the night and think I don't need a piss, I'll just lie there awake for ages until I realise I did need a piss all along. Then I get up and piss. So I've decided to just cut out the wasted sleep time and get up and piss everytime also.

 

I was really paranoid about it happening again for years after it happened, but it never has (even when I've had dreams about pissing). I actually remember it in my dream, and panic myself and force myself to wake up.

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Wait until you hit your forties lads and you live your life constantly needing a piss. I'm up at least once a night for a huge slash. Incidents where I nearly piss myself are up with each year and I can no longer wear my favourite pale blue trousers for work due to increased amounts unwanted of post piss discharge which they show up quite badly. 

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Last night had a dream that I was playing FIFA and the match had just started. Martin Tyler and Alan Smith were reading out the team sheets as they do, then at the end:

"Adolf Hitler starting on the bench today, what can you tell us about that, Alan?"

"Yes, well, earlier in the week Hitler published Meine Kampf, which seems to have caused a lot of controversy amongst the squad. Wouldn't be surprised to see him come of the bench in the second half if they are a goal behind, with his firepower in the box".

Edited by Gus Mears
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13 hours ago, Gus Mears said:

Last night had a dream that I was playing FIFA and the match had just started. Martin Tyler and Alan Smith were reading out the team sheets as they do, then at the end:

"Adolf Hitler starting on the bench today, what can you tell us about that, Alan?"

"Yes, well, earlier in the week Hitler published Meine Kampf, which seems to have caused a lot of controversy amongst the squad. Wouldn't be surprised to see him come of the bench in the second half if they are a goal behind, with his firepower in the box".

I assume you played Hitler on the right wing? 

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I had a dream the other night where I was in a café/restaurant and my grandad walked in. I thought to myself 'Oh fantastic, he has been bad on his pins recently' Out of nowhere a big fuck off snake chomped at his leg and blood was pissing everywhere.

The snake then turned its attention on me and I backed up on to a condiments table. It was edging closer to me so I was moving further back on the table and then....

 

BANG!

I woke up on my bedroom floor landing right on my arse. My immediate thought was I can't believe I have just fucking fell out of bed. I look to the bed and my wife who was breastfeeding was looking at me with a puzzled look on her face. I nodded at her, jumped back into bed and promptly fell back asleep hoping she would think she just imagined the whole episode. Didn't work.

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Here's a bunch that I've written down recently on waking:

Slavery was back in America, but I somehow was on TV, and roused everybody into fighting back against their oppressors. The symbol of this revolution was 90's style ray-bans, like what Eazy E would wear, and any slave who'd broken their chains and killed their owner would wear a pair to show the world how they'd liberated themselves.

Then I was walking through burning, rioting streets, and saw Geoffrey from the Fresh Prince walking along with Will. Will was crying, while G was wearing ray-bans, and I immediately realised he'd taken my speech as incitement to kill Uncle Phil and Aunt Viv, even though they pay him, and from what we saw on TV, treat him quite well. I felt horribly guilty about this both in the dream, and for a while on waking, as I hadn't meant for Uncle Phil to die at all.

...

In another one, also riddled with weird racial undertones, I was on the toilet, pooing, and felt a worryingly big turd painfully coming out of me. I looked into the toilet, and a giant, human head-sized lump of shite rose silently out of the water, and reshaped itself into the face of Dr. Paul Truman from 2000's Eastenders. I tried to take a photo of it on my Kindle, but then it turned into a weird augmented reality game, where I was shooting at it with lasers.

...

At school, and my mate Matt's calculator started beeping because of a low battery. I picked it up and pretended it was a phone, answering with "Professor Hawking? Maths is dead?!" and everyone thought it was hilarious; the greatest joke ever told. A lad from a year below was sent up to the class to meet me because I was his comedy hero, and they took a photo of us shaking hands.

...

Cliff Richard was in a nearby street pulling stuff out of a recycling bin and throwing it at the windows of a house, clearly having a breakdown. The owners yelled out of the window that they were calling the police, so he climbed inside it and closed the lid.

...

There's another one here about Christopher Lee but it's 700 fucking words long, with the madman's spelling of someone who frantically typed it at 5am half asleep so forget that for now.

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I still vividly remember every moment of this. God love you if you can plough through the whole thing. Incredibly, the old "gonna be late for school!" thing crops up again. Humans could live to be 1,000 and never lose that subconscious fear:

Quote

I was at the local park, and Christopher Lee was there, the age he was as Dracula. We got talking about the trees that were there, one lot of which had been planted by nuns for them to climb and play on, which had nuns swinging from the branches like monkeys. There were some new trees too, small and fenced off, and I told him I didn't remember them from when I was a kid. We talked about how everything changes, and that everything from when I was younger had been knocked down and turned into flats. The school, the beach; all different.

Christopher Lee offered to take me for a bit of a drive. We went along the beach and along some railroad tracks in his car, which was so old, it had to be started by a crank handle, and along to his flat, which was above the train station. It was dilapidated and wooden with a rickety spiral staircase that was falling apart. He took me upstairs, and was suddenly older and frail, like he was at the end of his life. He asked if I wanted to stay the night because he was lonely, and it became clear he was gay and wanted to have sex with me, and the whole drive had been a pretext to getting me back there.

Though I felt sorry for him, I declined, and as I said goodbye and turned to leave, he said in a very excited voice “Wilbur, you're here!” I realised he had dementia, and thought this imaginary Wilbur character had arrived in his flat. As he greeted him, I saw Wilbur too, and it was Paul Whitehouse, who winked at me, because he was pretending to be Wilbur, so that Christopher Lee wouldn't get upset.

I'd told him I would make my own way home, but couldn't find the exit, so climbed over a pile of metal, and ending up on a roof. I was really high, clambering over all metal and junk, and things were clattering and falling down but I couldn't get up or down, then I saw a door.

There were what I thought were stairs up, but it was just a thing for holding metal pipes, and it was all industrial, then I found a door into an art gallery. Lots of people were working on art in silence, and I knew it was a sweat shop, because they were too afraid to even look at me and nobody would answer me.

I knew I had to get out, because it was the last day of term on 6th form and I'd left 10 minutes before last period, and everyone was being nice to me because we'd been on a school trip, and I felt popular for the first time, but they'd hate me and think I was rude if I just disappeared without saying goodbye and wishing them a nice summer, which was what I always did; disappeared and went home. So if I couldn't get back in time, they would think “same old Millard, he's not changed at all.” I couldn't phone for help as I didn't want to use the battery up.

People were working on pictures in the gallery, which was made of metal and almost pitch black, but they still didn't acknowledge me, then I met a woman who was a friend, I feel like she was my best friend, but she was very distressed to see me. “You shouldn't be here” she said. Everywhere there were distorted paintings of Paul McCartney, where his face was melting or he looked like an old witch.

I told the woman that I would protect her, and that was my job now, and we were sat on the floor in a corner holding onto a mannequin head like it was a baby.

 

Then I woke up.

 

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Tremendous stuff!

Rob Newman once said that Salvador Dali was a rubbish surrealist because true surrealism needs to acknowledge the authentic note of dreams, that in amongst the impossible and the imaginary, there must exist the mundane and the everyday. Panicking that you'll be late for school is absolutely that. 90% of my dreams seem to involve me being at school; my classmates might be random celebrities, or people I only ever knew as adults, but the setting is always some amalgamation of all my old schools.

Either that or they involve me bunking off either work or school and, no matter what else is going on, no matter how horrifying, amazing or ridiculous the events around me, they're all underpinned by the fear of being caught skiving.

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