Wednesday, 2 February 2011
Sweet Dream Baby
Do you dream? Or more correctly, since we're told we all do, do you remember your dreams?
My complaint is quite simple. The only dreams I remember are the boring ones. Why have I no recollection of sexually explicit dreams: living out my fantasy as Casanova or Russell Brand? Is it too much to ask?
This morning I awoke with a clear memory of last night's dream. Yet again I was in the hallowed portals of Her Majesty's Treasury getting into frightful trouble over something I had or hadn't done. It is just the most recent of a veritable mini-saga entitled "The Man in the Ministry". There I was, dressed in my pants, advising one of my ex bosses. It seemed totally natural to be sitting in a conference room while a troop of clowns skipped by.
I wouldn't mind that much, except I seem to work harder in my dreams than I ever did in real life. I'm convinced that much of the Coalition's fiscal policy has been hammered out in my dreams. It was I that pushed strongly for the public execution of the bankers; but Winnie the Pooh (special advisor to Georgie Porgy) over-ruled me.
After a particularly intensive period of nocturnal financial planning, I felt sure I would receive some form of recognition. As no letter arrived from the Palace or No 10, I awaited impatiently for my next pension payment. I was convinced that my pay packet would be extra bulky as a reward for my nightly exertions.
It is a fool who expects any Government to act honourably. Not a sausage, not a penny weight was added to my monthly pittance. I made up my mind to bring this to the attention of the appropriate authorities the next time I happened to be in Whitehall.
But frankly I'd give up any claim for back pay if only I could remember those steamy, saucy, sexy dreams that everyone else tells me they have and enjoy reliving.
I thought that what I might do is sign up for one of these memory training schemes. You know the sort of thing you see in the "You" supplement of the Daily Mail.
"Do you have difficulty remembering your name, where you live and whether or not you're married? If the answer's yes, do not despair. After only one week's training using my unique fool proof system you will be able to recall phi to one thousand decimal points and recite "The Ancient Mariner" standing on your head".
Then again, it's just possible that I don't have any erotic night life, and that all I can conjure up is a ledger and double entry book keeping. If only the Treasury had a young, attractive female Chief Secretary, who I could advise - in my pyjamas.