My dreams from the last 10 years

I realised recently that I’ve been using Twitter as the unofficial repository for scraps of my dreams over the last 10 years. Whenever I’ve woken from a dream worthy of note, my first act has usually been to inform my few hundred disinterested followers on social media. So here are the raw recollections of a decade of dreams, all neatly encapsulated in 140 characters or less thanks to Twitter’s original tweet limit.

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Content

A friend once described me as a “Premier League raconteur”, which, to this day, is the best compliment anyone’s ever bestowed on me (even if not entirely true). Anyway, here’s a self-deprecating little anecdote about a terrible moment in my life that I’m not proud of and for which you should definitely judge me. I have nothing else to write about, so this is just meaningless ‘content’.

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An irradiated fox with a hubcap melted into its face

Police in Seattle were recently called out to a local park, where they discovered a shirtless, hammer-wielding man hanging upside down from a basketball hoop, who thrashed around wildly until firefighters released him. If you change “shirtless” to “trouserless”, “hammer” to “secateurs” and “hanging upside down from a basketball hoop” to “trapped under the roller shutter of a looted and partially destroyed Waitrose”, it’s how I imagine I would end up after a few days of trying to survive in a war zone or post-apocalyptic future.

‘Tis the season for me to write about Christmas

“Always winter but never Christmas,” said Mr Tumnus when explaining the White Witch’s icy grip on the wintry kingdom of Narnia. It’s a quote that evokes a desperate sadness, a snowy landscape that no longer captivates with its untouched, velvety beauty but instead torments and imprisons, injecting a deathly cold into the shivering core of every living thing. ‘Christmas’ is nothing but a whisper evaporating in a cloud of foggy breath.