Sweet Dreams

'Well, we started off on burgundy, but soon hit the harder stuff.' The inimitable Bob.

None of that malarkey around here, Jack. No, no! No drinkies for the past eight days. In fact, no nothing for seven days and then the soapbar arrived. Hurrah! So pleased! I smoked it with tobacco (Bad Boy!), but won't do the silly thing and smoke it tonight. I'll have a bit to eat anyway.

Last week I kept remembering dreams. They were vivid but not lucid. Here's three of them for what they're worth, probably nothing.

1) I was having a drink with Sean Connery. Sean was reminding me of how I used to stay over at his house in London on my way to-ing and fro-ing. We were having a bit of a laugh. Sean was getting a bit pissed as well and I went into the kitchen for more drink. Sean Connery is, of course, a symbol of Scotland these days, being Sean Connery, the most famous Scotsman there is.

2) I was playing football for Hibs during the time Alex McLeish was manager. Though nobody seemed to be noticing, I was rubbish and hardly got a touch on the ball. One time I was lying in the penalty area with the goal at my mercy and couldn't move my leg to hit the ball. I pretended I was injured to see if I could get off the park, but Alex was making me go out for the second half.

(3) I had a bag of money and stuck it in the cupboard. Pots of money. I'd organised the lottery so I could win it, but when I won it, I didn't know if I was going to give the money away, as I'd promised, or keep it. I was pretty sure I was going to give it away, but there was a fair amount of clinging and craving, and I was waiting for the allegations of fraud to die down.

Without the drink and drugs sometimes I was not getting to sleep for a while last week. I was bothered about not getting to sleep last night, (the soapbar was totally unexpected!) and went to the chemist's for some Benylin, a cough mixture.

It was just after I got another Cormac McCarthy book from the library. The assistant asked me which bottle I wanted. The small bottle or the big bottle? I bought the big bottle. There'll be a lot more coughing to be done this winter, says I, still in Cormac McCarthy mode. Yessirreesir!