Did I mention that I have cable?

I frequently daydream and have the archtypal 'lights on but no one home' expression on my face. Not that it is warmly appreciated by anyone, apart from fellow spaced-out Tube riders. For better or worse, this vapid condition has escalated this past week and made significant headway into my sacred slumber time. Now not only are the metaphorical lights left on, but the entire clutch of electrical appliances -telly, whistling kettle, radio clock, you name it- jam in the cramped apartment of my subconscious. I dream in full audio and technicolour splendour.

"What about the neighbours?" the civic-minded among you might ask.

Well, I'll be damned if I care, it is a blooming lark! Every night without fail, a long-drawn dream, simmered in home-made thick and chunky plot, unfurls. There is no shortage of weird and wonderful characters -and this is where it gets interesting- there hasn't been one whom I've actually recognised. Yes, it is an ad-hoc, one-night-only deal.

Last night's entertainment was a la 'Memoirs of a Geisha', with yours truly in the dramatic lead role as a moralising entertainer woo-ed by a colleague's spouse. Go figure. The previous night's thread had me sailing across the deep blue ocean with a bunch of strangers in a sampan. Always long stories, but terribly scant on character development. Who will debut tonight?

At crepe brunch this afternoon, Pink said that there might be troubling issues occupying my thoughts. She is right, though it seems obvious on hindsight. Even Ste the skeptic -who is first to hear the unexpurgated gibberish about my dreams at the crack of dawn- had to agree.

So it appears that my mind has licenced itself a separate channel for sorting things out. Where's that damn remote control ...