An End to my Dreams.......????????

It's the weirdest thing, but lately, my weird and wonderful dreams just seem to have all of a sudden... stopped.

And even odder, it's all since I started a completely new blog on the entirely unrelated real-life subject of the Prague dining scene ('knedliky' is Czech for dumplings, which when served up with pork and cabbage constitute the Czech equivalent to British fish & chips).

Could it be that all that nocturnal craziness was just my frustrated brain's way of telling me that I needed a new creative outlet?

Does all the mental energy that goes into the food blog by day somehow allow my subconscious to be more at rest by night?

Or is it just that, what with all these restaurants to review, I'm not staying in at home anymore drinking wine and eating cheese-laden pasta at 9 or 10 at night...?? ;-))

In some ways I'm sorry, but in others its admittedly a relief to have a subconscious (for now at least) at rest for a little while - it is actually quite exhausting to experience life as actively in your sleeping hours as you do when you're awake!

Am sure this won't be the last entry of my dream blog, and I will of course still write up if anything of particular nocturnal interest occurs - until then, however, please divert your attentions to 'Knedliky Etc' for the time being instead (though please don't let on it's me ;-)) ) and leave me finally to a good night's sleep!! ;-))

Come Dine with Me - Episode 4

Well, admittedly it's been a while since the last installment of my personal nocturnal 'Come Dine with Me' series, but luckily last night's belated episode more than made it up for it though, as for the first time in subconscious televisual history, 'Come Dine with Me' actually combined with 'The Apprentice' to deliver up the ultimate in competitive dining reality TV...

Basically, in the tried and tested format of 'The Apprentice', the legendary Sir Alan Sugar set two pre-selected teams (one of which included me as a member) a business task to complete in the course of an episode - in this case having each team prepare a four-course meal for a large group from scratch, an endeavor which ranged from the sourcing of quality ingredients at value prices to the choosing of appropriate menu options etc, before as a team collectively preparing, cooking and serving up the food to a ten-strong select panel of Sir Alan's personal business acquaintances. Unfortunately I was not designated Project Manager for this task, however, and ended up having to follow some other cretin's illogical menu choices - namely to serve omelettes as a main course for ten people, but with only me (equipped with just the one pan) appointed to cook them. Inevitably, this ended up with me desperately trying to chop up the fillings and fry the omelettes one by one at the last minute, knowing all the while that this was nothing more than a pointless exercise in sheer and utter futility imposed by some up-their-own-arse, full-of-shit, Donald Trump wannabe, 'Apprentice' contestant, who despite all their business bravado still lacked the basic common sense to know that it would of course take ages between starter and main to get out ten omelettes individually, and that by the time the time the tenth was done, the first eight or nine would already be stone cold...

Inevitably my team ended up losing the task (though not from want of sheer physical effort on my part), but I defended myself eloquently to Sir Alan, Nick and Margaret (a great loss to the real life version of the show, btw) by citing my original menu that had (on film) been blindly overruled by the puffed up Project Manager. In contrast to the PM's haphazard, ill-thought out menu plan, my options relied instead on both fresh, simple ingredients and sensible pre-prepartion: namely an easily pre-prepared, simple roast vegetable soup as a starter, followed by grilled goat's cheese salad on toasted ciabatta as a quick and easy second course, with a butternut squash and pancetta risotto (simple to prepare in bulk while the first two courses were being served) next as the main, before finally rounding off with a decadent chocolate cheesecake (again easily pre-prepared earlier in the afternoon) for dessert.

So that's one episode survived despite being on the losing room - just hope I survive the Boardroom in the next round!!!!!!!! Until then, Sir Alan Sugar's search for his Apprentice... continues.

Eighties Nostalgia...

Does anyone apart from me remember an eighties kids film called ‘D.A.R.Y.L.’ (short for ‘Data-Analysing Robot Youth Lifeform’)??? It starred the kid from ‘Neverending Story’, and was about a boy who thought he’d lost all memory of his previous existence, but later (much to his own surprise, presumably) actually turned out to be a cyborg at the centre of a top-secret government experiment into artificial intelligence and the capacity of machines to experience human emotion, in effect whether it was possible for an artificial android to become a “real boy”. Kind of like Pinocchio, but with robots.

Well, last night I dreamt I was a repeat experiment of the whole D.A.R.Y.L. saga, with myself not remembering anything of any previous existence, and therefore initially behaving in a totally unsocialised manner. However, while the Daryl child of the film betrayed his technological origins via the demonstration of Spock-like logic / mathematical genius / computer game expertise etc, I just basically ran riot, beating up the fellow siblings of my new adoptive family and just generally raising hell, until I eventually became socialized enough to act like a decent human being. Unlike the Daryl of the movie, however, who quickly learned to experience human emotions, I could only ever adapt to human life in an abstract moral sense, as opposed to developing any innate sense of feeling or humanity – in essence just an extreme manifestation of the generally “emotional crippled” (my mother’s words for my genetically repressed lineage) manner in which I currently live out my real-life existence… Not that it is any bad thing to think more with one’s head rather than heart I suppose, but still, it would be nice to at least have the choice…

Anyway moving back to happier territory, weren’t eighties films in general just great? They just don’t make them like the ‘Goonies’, ‘Karate Kid’, ‘Flight of the Navigator’, ‘Short Circuit’, ‘Dark Crystal’, ‘Big’, ‘Gremlins’, ‘Ghostbusters’, ‘Back to the Future’ and of course ‘E.T.’ any more – though watching David Bowie in the ‘Labyrinth’ now as an adult, you quickly realize why your mum was always so uncharacteristically keen to sit down and watch with you… Wonder if the kids who played Atreyu and Bastian Balthazar Bux in the movie have even the remotest idea that the Czech version of the classic ‘Neverending Story’ song still plays in certain renowned Prague nightclubs plays to this day….????? ;-))))))))

Happy Families...

Last night I dreamed again of returning to university for my forgotten final year (in itself another recurrent dream), only to find my beloved Auntie Anne, Uncle Chris and all my step-siblings sitting in the college common room waiting for me, much to my surprise. I was naturally very touched that they'd all unexpectedly come together to pay me a visit, but at the same time was utterly mortified that they'd also apparently all been sitting there waiting for me to turn up the whole day. Promising I'd just dump my suitcase in my nearby student dorm and come right back down to join them, I heading up to my block, only to find out that, after so many years away, I couldn't remember any more where my old room was, and instead wound up getting myself well and truly lost in the Kafkaesque labyrinth of corridors and staircases that even in real life used to make up much of the old-school Cambridge halls of residences. All the time I was of course panicking that my relatives were all still waiting downstairs, and in the end by the time I did eventually make it back down again, only a patient Auntie Anne and Chris were left. But being two of the nicest and kindest people I know, they weren't cross with me at all, and instead took me out for a lovely dinner at some trendy new restaurant where we shared some lovely red wine and I had pork medallions on a bed of potato purée topped with a cranberry jus to eat. So all in all a happy ending to this one I guess! :-))

Snippets III

A few random recollections of recent nocturnal escapades:

• Going for an interview as Fraud Prevention manager at Ernst & Young, only - to my utter mortification - to bump into my current Dutch and Swedish colleagues who were there collaborating with my company on a joint Excel department. Had to beg them both not to tell our boss that I'd been for another interview elsewhere (not, by the way, that I am even thinking about moving at the moment...).
• Taking off from a private airfield in a small plane with my boss and all my colleagues, only to see a rocket launch and explode in mid-air, scattering a load of toxic phishing mails covered with poisonous yellow powder across the surrounding countryside, and having to organise a mass evacuation of the entire area.
• Going on a road trip with my beloved Michael Palin, who was waxing lyrical about his neo-geometric view of town planning and maximum utilisation of space / balance of urban and rural landscapes.
• Reluctantly going on a tacky beach holiday with family and wanting to stay in spa, but being dragged out into the hot sun and sticky sand anyway (both of which I find utterly bothersome - am more the alpine than the seaside type), where I shared the only bit of shade under a palm tree with some fat old German who kept perving me up.
• Relocating to the countryside as Sarah Jessica Parker (as in 'Did You Hear About the Morgans'), where I bailed hay and sat on a cliff ledge with some random old guy rehashing all the failings of our past relations.
• Running my hand over my stomach and trying to work out if it was concave or convex.

Auf der Flucht...

Strangely enough for an unfailingly law-abiding citizen (not out of any sense of innate morality, you understand, but just a base fear of getting caught), every once in a while I dream that I'm on the run from the law - usually due to a false accusation, abuse in the home, or just wanting to escape the demands of a relentlessly competitive society. The odd thing though is that without exception, rather than being panicked or fearful at the prospect of being tracked down and punished by the law, I actually find these dreams strangely liberating and exhilarating instead...

Last night, for example, I dreamt that myself (as a 13 year old) was on the run together with Dewey from 'Malcolm in the Middle', stopping off at a supermarket to shoplift up on provisions. Unfortunately in this case, Dewey's amateur attempts at petty theft got himself caught, with me as his presumed older sister being hauled up in front of the store manager to explain ourselves - in German of all languages. The kindly store manager clearly suspected there was something wrong with the scenario (namely that we might be two kids fending for ourselves etc), but I successfully managed to put her off the scent by (in German) persuading her that it was just a mistake on little Dewey's part, that I was perfectly ready and willing to pay (luckily I had a stash of presumably ill-gotten cash on me), and that we'd been to this particular shop many times before without causing a problem etc etc...

In the end she decided to let it go, however, leaving me and Dewey to run back to the car (once again presumably stolen, given that neither of us were old enough to drive) and take off, with myself being so utterly stressed out by the whole encounter that for once I let Dewey drive (a rare treat for him, especially since he was the one who'd landed us both in the shit in the first place...).

Clearly behind my diligent, academic, corporate exterior, there is an inner rebel just waiting to break out and recklessly abscond from reality to live by a combination of my wits / petty crime etc - until then though it's filling in my Annual Performance Plan this afternoon and back to work on Monday... Ho hum...

Relocation, Relocation, Relocation

In one of my earliest entries on recurrent dreams, I mentioned that I frequently dream of moving into some seemingly fantastic new flat in Prague, only to later regret the rashness of my decision and realize that I had it better back at the old place after all. With half my colleagues simultaneously moving apartments in real life at the moment, however, it’s probably of no surprise really that the theme of domestic relocation has now once again cropped up in my dreams, though last night with a distinct break from the usual course of events so far…

Generally in such dreams, I find myself randomly moving into a new flat that initially catches my interest, only to later realize that my old one was much better / cheaper / closer to work etc, and that in my hurry to relocate I’ve actually forgotten to find someone to take over the old lease… In last night’s version of the dream, however, I actually took the time to stop and think about the advantages and disadvantages of a prospective move to a potential new flat – a genuine dream first in my recollection... On the one hand, the new flat was tantalizingly close to my office (thereby saving me the tedious twice daily commute), was located in the vibrant, upmarket area of Vinohradý (as opposed to my current neighbourhood of down-and-dirty Holešovice), and even included an actual proper double bed (a definite step-up from my distinctly less than comfortable IKEA fold-out sofa-bed now). On the other hand, the kitchette was crap compared to my current set-up, the flat was situated right above a noisy restaurant / bar, and the two current British tenants (one of whom was afflicted with a distinct squint) I later found out were attempting to illegally sublet the flat to me against the wishes of the actual in absentia owner, who in the event turned out to be none other than recent political victor (of sorts), David Cameron. Deciding that I probably didn’t want to get myself embroiled in some drawn-out property dispute with the current British PM (especially when I was 100% banking for him the other week), for the first time in all my multiple relocation dreams, I finally decided I actually had it pretty good already where I lived already (after all, the commute to work only takes a mere twenty minutes door-to-door, and – bar all the junkies / alcoholics who inhabit the park in front of my house - Holešovice isn’t all that much of a shithole really), and so headed back contentedly to my little sofa-bed studio again on the trusty number five tram.

According to the internet, dreams of moving house have the following interpretations:

Dreams about moving house often mean you are moving through differing aspects of your personality. Your personality is seen to be 'where you live' and so to move house speaks of changes in lifestyle relating to personality, thoughts, beliefs. You are evolving - moving into a higher or different area of growth where changes are big and full of meaning.

Houses in dreams often represent parts of your mind or personality. Perhaps your dream simply reflects your awareness of different parts of your personality. Maybe you have been moving from one part of yourself to another, trying out different aspects of yourself. Maybe you are trying to decide who you really are?

If you are moving a house in your dream, it expresses your feeling that you want to be in a new environment or want to change yourself. If you’re moving in to a gorgeous house, it implies that you’ll be able to find a suitable environment for you and that you will have a chance to change and become a new person.

To me it seems pretty obvious really that such relocation dreams are just a reflection of my current, unresolved state of inner conflict between old and new in terms of both geographical location and future professional path, with the fickleness I display towards alternate abodes in such dreams simply a nocturnal expression of the uncertainty I feel towards pretty much everything in my life right about now (Prague? UK? Law? HR? Parisian MBA? etc etc) and the fear of making a rash or wrong decision I later come to regret. That the new flat in question often turns out to be invasively noisy / unexpectedly shared / or initially unbeknownst to me doubling up as a café-bar by night, I can’t help but feel indicates a deep-seated subconscious fear of giving up the privacy of my current little Holešovice bubble and sharing not just my space, but also my emotions and possibly whole bloody rest of my life with (if all goes to current plan) my one-day cohabiting other half - not an easy thing for someone so inherently private and accustomed to one’s own space (read “borderline hermit” / “emotional cripple” – both traits unfortunately genetically inherited) to contemplate really…

All food for thought for the time being maybe, but until then am sticking with good old inertia in the face of indecision (not to mention still potentially impending global economic meltdown), and will simply play it safe and stick with what I know for now!!! Saves on the hassle of moving at any rate ;-)))