Analyze This

It's not often that I remember an entire dream, but when I went back to sleep at 6.30 this morning for extra hour's kip, I had a very disturbing dream indeed.

It started off going and visiting my friend's new house on Zanzibar, which looked remarkably like a typical English semi-detatched, funnily enough. I think it was Ben's house, and I was visiting with Matt and Charlie (they're all friends from school, but I haven't seem Matt in ages).

Then a bit later I was back in the UK, and was talking about it to a girl in a group of people who may or may not have been joinees whom I may or may not have met before. She said she had been to Zanzibar recently, and had been horrified by all the modern development that was ruining Stone Town.

So there I was back again infront of Ben's new house, and I started walking around and see that she was right, or at least part right. So to get a better look I floated up into the air and flew around above the rooftops, only I had a bit of trouble maintaining a good enough height, which was unusual, because I don't normally have any trouble flying around under my own power.

So, I had a good look around, and all characters that had so far featured in the dream met up at Wimbledon (or something very much like it - we were still on Zanzibar). We all sat in different parts of the stands, and I was stood next to that girl again at the back, watching from underneath the main tier (yes, they now have tiers at Wimbledon, and they're not Tim Henman's).

So I was quite happily resuming my previous conversation with this girl, and not paying very much attention to the game, which was the final and involved Roger Federer, although he looked not unlike Neil Morrissey.

Then a man infront of us, who looked like some kind of white-haired moustachio'd Texan oil baron pulled out a gun disguised as a cigarette lighter (I'm not making this up, I promise), and fired it at Federer. Bizarrely, though, his aim went all wobbly at the last moment, and he fired well above Federer.

I was apparently the only person who'd seen this, but I saw it too late to do anything about it. It was, unsurprisingly, followed by blind panic in the entire crowd and everyone ran out into the foyer. I though everything was okay, but then Charlie caught up with me and told me that Matt had been in the opposite corner to us, and had been killed by the bullet.

Then I wandered around in a daze for a bit and eventually rolled around on the floor bawling my eyes out before waking up.

Bloody wierd. And painfully disturbing. I've been crossing paths with loads of people I hadn't seen in ages lately, and I haven't seen Matt in a good three years probably. There has to be some kind of link there. Very odd.