Dreamin'

When there's nothing interesting going on in the real world what else is there to talk about but dreams. I've had some fantastic dreams in my life but also some pretty spooky ones too. They say if you die in a dream then you die in real life but that's not true. I had this dream when I was about 8 or 9. I was in my bedroom and there was this huge yellow spider there. It was about the size of a dog. There was something on the floor I was reaching out for and the spider zapped out one of it's long yellow legs, snapped it around my wrist and gave me an electric shock. Although it didn't hurt it killed me. My mum came up to the room a few seconds after and seeing me lying dead she held me in her arms and cried. I still remember vividly feeling my mum's grasp, hearing her tears and thinking oh my god this is awful, I'm dead but I'm still conscious. I awoke from this dream feeling scared and ran straight to my mum's room where everyone was already awake. There had been a huge storm that night which none of us slept through, except for Zoe.

It was a pretty horrible dream but it wasn't the scariest dream I ever had. I dreamt once that I was down in Kerry at my aunt's house. No one else was there though except for a big man with a caveman's club who was chasing me round. I gave him a good chase but he finally caught up with me and when he did I lay on the ground, rolled myself up in a ball and braced myself for the club coming smashing down on my head. I woke up before it did. I was freaked but went promptly back to sleep and had exactly the same dream again only this time he was chasing me with an axe. The same thing happened and he caught up with me but just before the axe hit me I woke up again. This time I was even more freaked but I still went back to sleep. I had the dream for a third time. Same guy, same scene, only this time it was a gun. I was inside my aunt's house this time, cowering on her stairs, when he got in, found me and pointed the gun to my head. I braced myself for the inevitable but woke up just before he shot me. This time I forced myself to stay awake. There was no way I was having that dream again.

Aren't they mad things dreams? The way they can make you experience all these feelings and emotions that just aren't real. I said to Jamie wouldn't it be cool if we shared dreams. If people could experience the same dreams as each other. He thought it would be a nightmare. I said it could be beautiful too. I would hate to never dream again. Even if it means you have to experience nightmares too.

Last night I dreamed about having a pet spider. I just watched it running around on the floor. I lay down to be closer to it but then I couldn't see where it had gone. Assuming it was probably on me I jumped and flailed around so much (cos I'm scared of spiders and don't like them on me) that I was sure I had killed it. My dad came into the room and I told him what had happened. He looked on the floor and saw a tiny little black ball. It was my little dead spider and I felt so bad. But when he picked it up it opened out it's wings and flew off. It wasn't my spider it was a fly.

I had a strange dream last year when I was living with my dad in Leek. I was in my bedroom and two of my cats were at the far end of the room by the door. Attila and Tooty Cat who were both dead so I was really pleased to see them. I wanted to come across the room to pet them but I couldn't. There was an obstacle. Hundreds of rats running around the floor. A carpet of rats. There were several things going through my head. A longing to see these cats that I hadn't seen for ages. A fear for the safety of the cats because I thought the rats would maul them. A longing to get to my cats to rescue them and a fear that I couldn't reach them because it would mean standing on the rats and I couldn't do that. My dad came up to the room and without actually saying or doing anything he had fixed the problem. Only the cats had gone by then and the rats were still there but they were underneath the carpet and it was bulging and moving.

The thing about dreams though is there very personal. They can blow you head away but no one else can really understand. It's not like in the waking world when people experience things and we can feel empathy. Empathy is a void feeling when it comes to people's dreams. So if you find my ramblings rather tedious then I don't blame you.

I Wish It Was Spring

I hate winter. I use up all my energy hating winter so much that I am too tired to do anything else. I wish I could just hibernate. I have been trying to convince myself that winter's not so bad. I've been trying to convince myself that the christmas lights are comforting but they're not a patch on natural daylight. As soon as the clocks go back I'm counting down the days to the shortest day of the year. Then after that I try to convince myself it's getting noticably lighter each day. I then count down the days 'til the day the clocks go forward. I don't care if I have to get up for work an hour earlier because there is a whole hour of extra light at night. It's spring time. Everything comes back to life. The trees are green again, the flowers come out and the wee lambs are in the fields. It's spring and there's still summer to look forward to. I love that time of year.

Rich in Coppers and Euros and Vouchers

Jamie and I are are beginning to realise how badly addicted to sweets and sugar we are. I get paid monthly and always cover the rent, splurge and wind up skint after 2 weeks. Fortunately, Jamie gets paid weekly and so we never run out of money and if we do it's always the day before Jamie gets paid.

Last night I sent Jamie up to the shop to get sweets with our last 50p. About an hour and a half later I wanted more. Me and Jamie sat on the sofa giggling and daring each other to go to the shop with our millions of coppers to get sweets and juice. I refused on the grounds that they would hate us for making them count all the coppers. Then I remembered I had some Euros left over from Connermara. So I says to Jamie:

You know they accept Euros in Next. You should go up with that 10 euro note and buy a pack of cards and you'll get the change back in sterling. And there's all them Next vouchers of mine. You could go up and buy a pack of christmas cards with them and get the change back.

I decided we couldn't do that 'cos everyone would know it was my boyfriend and I'd sent him there to get money and they'd think I was dead scabby. Then we realised that we had gone no longer than an hour and a half without money to buy sweets and already we were demented with the withdrawal symptoms. We thought about how we could go to the shop and if they didn't except our coppers we could give them our euros, and if they didn't take them we could give them a next voucher, and if they didn't take them we'd just run away with the sweets and juice. In the end we just suffered it and had tea and toast instead.

Hey Harry

High Five
Originally uploaded by hootchinhannah.

I suppose it was time that I commented on Harrybo. What a cat! what a good/bad cat. I'm so glad that I bonded with him when he was a kit. I was home that summer and he was like my baby. I watched him grow in my arms. I listened to his purrs. I let him dig his claws into me when he was trying to squeeze milk out of my armpit. When he was cute he was very cute but when he was bad he was very very bad.

I remember him going through adolesence. He could be really scary. He'd get an evil glint in his eye and you knew he was going to pounce. If you dared to tickle his belly when he was in a fighting mood, he'd grab your hand with all four of his limbs, dig the claws in and pierce your skin with his teeth. He'd follow me up to bed and I would lie there cowering. Scared to move my feet in case he attacked, scared to turn the page of a book in case he pounced on my fingers.

But he grew up. He hunted the wee birds rather than the humans and the dogs. He became huge. He was good fun. He was happy. We all loved him. The last time I saw him he made sure he cuddled me. Jamie commented on what a beautiful face he had. He was beautiful all over though his belly was a bit saggy. I fed the dogs at mum's the other night and Bert asked me if I missed him mewing for his food. I hadn't thought about it but I did look at his cat food and feel a pang.

Harry kept me company all last winter. In the dark mornings getting up for work Harry was always there mewing for his food. He was an amazingly clever cat who could send faxes, re-tune the TV and change the ringtone of the phone. He didn't jump on the kitchen surfaces like the bad Tooty Cat and the evil Muff. He was a dab hand at psyching out Swisser when she was visiting. She'll miss him. We all will.

Michael Is Fragile

Jamie had me in stitches last night. I'd just got in from having a pint with one of the girls I work with. I don't know how long Jamie had been pondering for, possibly all day, but he asked me, in all seriousness, how was he going to meet Michael Jackson. We discussed the many ways he could meet him but then Jamie was worried that he might just sound like an idiot when he eventually does.

'I want him to take me seriously. I want to make a record with him' Jamie says.

'Well, go up to him and say I've always respected you as a musician, I'd be honoured to make some music with you'

'I know what to say to him but how do I get to him in the first place. He doesn't deal with adults he only likes kids. He's not a paedophile. He just likes kids better.'

'You know what you have to do then, adopt a kid to get closer to Michael.'

'I have to have a kid. You have to stop taking the pill.'

'OK, we'll have a baby and we'll call him Bait'

And at that we chuckled. Then I said what a good story for my blog this would make and Jamie tells me that I can't write it. Why not?

'What if Michael reads your blog, he'll be offended.'

I laughed my head off.

'As if Michael Jackson is going to be reading my blog Jamie'

'No but he might just stumle across it and then he'll never want to make a record with me'

'Ok let me do the story and if he reads it you can pretend you don't know me'

'Yeah but there's photos of me plastered all over your blog and Michael will be like there's that dick who's calling his child Bait so he can meet me.'

How I laughed. I laughed and laughed and told Jamie that I would tell the story and if he ever gets to meet Michael I'll delete the post.

'But he's fragile. How would you like it if I jepordized your plans to meet Courtney Love?'

'But I'm not desperate enough to meet Courtney Love'

'Michael's more fragile than Courtney Love'

'I think Courtney's more fragile'

Then we proceeded to argue over who was more fragile, Jackson or Love. Then Jamie pointed out that we were arguing over which of our idols was the weakest.

I says 'I liked this conversation better before you brought Courtney Love into it, when you sounded like the mental one and I sounded sane'

So if Michael and Jamie become chums I will delete this post. For Michael is a fragile soul and we can't be upsetting his chakras. As for Courtney Love. I have no great desires to meet her and if I do I won't be wanting to make any music with her. And she will not even care that my child is called Bait, after all her's is called Frances Bean.

I'm A Laaaydeee

Since working in Next I have been forced to recognise my inner female. This means caring about such things as; jewelry, make-up, nice hair and tailored clothes. Anyone who knows me well knows that I never wear make-up, dye my hair until it has a straw-like texture, wear baggy clothes that give me no shape whatsoever and have more important things to spend my money than on accessories. But alas! They got me and they are trying to make lady out of me.

I used to wear jewelry but it was always of the hand-made variety. I once had a collection of barcelets on my wrist made up of tat, toot and shoelaces. They became so manky that I took them off and left them on a coach in Dublin. I have recived many wonderous hand-made bracelets, necklaces and earrings as gifts from friends and family. It got me thinking about how much nicer a beaded necklace can be when made by the fair hands of someone who knows you and cares about you. So Zoe called round last night with a box of tricks. Thousands of beads and wire and tools and catches. While Jamie entertained himself with a film called Slither (complete an utter tosh!) I set about making some Christmas presents.

Me and my sisters were always making things out of fimo when we were younger. We could have hours of fun making badges and bracelets and magnets. The last time I used fimo it was the special soft stuff with bits of glitter in it. When I took my hand-crafted goods out of the oven they had burnt and melted. I should have read the instructions.

Jamie's Dreams Come True

I've just read a Reveal exclusive. Jacko moves to Ireland. Jamie's dead excited and thinking that we'll go stay with him at Lugalla Castle in Wicklow and do some recording with him. Jamie has always been a Michael Jackson fan. He learnt all the moves when he was a kid and even wore a white glove for a time. I've always thought Michael Jackson was a bit of a freak. Never mind the whole child abuse allegations, he was just freaky. So I find it hard to understand Jamie's fascination with him. Especially when he claims to be so intrigued with Ireland that he once bid on ebay for a 'real Irish ghost' trapped in a bottle after exorcism and is rumoured to be creating a theme park called Leprechaun Land. That's all we need. Leprechaun Land.

Babies Are So Boring

Last night I dreamt I was pregnant and I had a baby. Does this mean I'm broody and want to start a family? Probably not, judging by the things I said in this dream, like, babies are so booorring, all they ever do is sleep and looking at my tummy and saying I can't believe it's gone back to normal so quickly, I thought it'd be really saggy.

In the time between writing this blog and the last I have been reversed into by a car on a one way street, been bought a bottle of perfume from a customer who I helped, been down drinking in Gillies bar even though I'm barred, had a very pleasant day out in Belfast with Zoe, almost handed my notice in at work but then thought better of it, have decided to become a plumber, joiner, counsellor and social worker depending on what day of the week it is and who I've been talking to.

So, as you can see, I've been busy. We had a surprise visit from some of Jamie's friends who were over for a wedding. That's why we down at Gillies because the wedding reception was at Galgorm Manor. The bouncer who barred us just glared. I think he's probably scared of me.

This weekend I'm taking it easy. The weather is crisp and sunny, perfect for dog-walking and photo-taking. Why does the sun only shine in Ireland when it's baltic outside?