Bill Oddie

Last night I had a dream that my girlfriend and I were with Billy Oddie, the British comedian and naturalist (not naturist, the distinction is worth remembering), being given an extensive guided tour of his home.

Bill was quiet and humorless, which was unusual. I believe he was showing us the house as he was trying to sell it. Half way through the tour I realised that I was completely naked and quickly grabbed one of Bill’s old socks to attempt to cover myself. Bill snatched the sock back and angrily, noticing my nudity for the first time, demanded to know why I was walking around without clothes.

My girlfriend answered for me “his clothes are in the back of the car, but he’s not allowed them”. Somehow the venerable British television personality seemed to accept this as an appropriate answer and showed us the rest of his home.

When he led us into the kitchen he revealed that he has a sideline in running a breakfast cafe out of it and, naturally, the patio doors opened and two dozen hungry families piled in. Men glared at me and women shook their heads and covered their children’s eyes.

Then I woke up. Very confused.
What the hell was that supposed to be?

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Uni

I had a 2 hour nap yesterday. I dreamt that I went back to University to do some random Batchelors. Because it was my second time, I just dug in, did my work and studied. Somehow, in quite the opposite fashion to my first go, I became incredibly popular; a walking party and social centre of the campus. I was dragged out to all the parties and clubs. I played football and American football. All the guys would namedrop me and people high fived me wherever I went. I had a huge smile on my face.
I woke up despondent and was grouchy for a couple hours after. I just sat here and remembered it all in vivid detail and felt quite sobered. It is odd to think that some people really do live that life; people are magnetically drawn to them and everything they do is worshipped.

Honest

Let’s be honest
He said, she said, they all said
As I sat there flipping that coin
Nonchalant and repetitive

You never wanted any of this
Its not how you planned
What you dreamt
What you thought and where you
Imagined you would be
Could be

When you stood so proudly ten years ago
With dew glistening on those fresh white wings
Spreading out behind you
Feeling the breeze on your face
The wind in your hair

And now the sand in your eyes and ashes in your mouth
As you clamber through the dirt
They lied to you when they told you that those
Crisp feathers were for anything other than decoration
Ornaments laden with sentiment

Yet you were the only one who didn’t see through it
You must have done something wrong to end up here
Boy
Hard work and humble pie makes a man into
A mouse

A snivelling, sniffling rat
With a scabby fur and mouldy tail
Those crude pigeon wings strapped, taped to your back
By capricious kids and the cackling fat masses

You never wanted this
Or saw this coming, creeping and climbing
Declining like your health and mind
Wrapped up, trapped in that bone skull shell

Heck, I know what I want
But how to get there
And where there is
Will always escape and elude me

I’m far too old, far too soon and so far from
The goal, I’m kicking it about
Playing keepy-ups by my own corner flag
Flung far back in defence
Too cautious and still sat soundly on the wrong end of a five nil thrashing
I shake my tail and wonder

Where is the cheese
Far beyond several false doors, buzzers, shocks and strong lights
Far too far for your furry white snout
Far too far for my pasty white self

Soar

In my dreams i’m soaring
Coasting, flying, rising high above
The bleak towers and turrets of our world
If this is my deepest desire

Then what does that say about
The life that i’m living
If all I crave is solitude and
An escape, to travel anywhere

Anyplace but here
The updraft whips around my
Tattered clothes, draped loosely
Over this broken body

Yet for the life of me
I can’t think of anywhere else i’d
Rather be and this dream has
Followed me for as long as I’ve known

Windwalking, racing across
Rooftops, riding clouds until
I fall flat on my face
A mouthful of dirt and grit

Spit it out and ascend
Rise again, remain ethereal
Airborne and weightless
So sick of waiting

They say that you can
Run from your problems
But can’t run from yourself, well
I’ve never heard any cautionary talk

Of trials, tribulations, ordeals or
Unpleasantness chasing and following
As you drift along on a draft
Or grip on to a gust