The Plainclothes Clown

I had this dream the night before last, and so far the only one I have told was naaila and then, only sketchily.

Here's the fuller description.

There was a large office building, like one of Liverpool's Three Graces, as seen below:-



Anyway, I had to go into this building and meet someone on the first floor. Only, there was a problem. Guests were only allowed in on the ground floor, but the upper storeys were for members only, and there was a Steward to look out for whose job it was to eject undesirables.

So I went in, along with a crowd of people - and this was a pretty crowded dream, one of the most crowded I have ever been in - and the building looked even more magnificent inside than it did on the outside. All columns and polished brass and marble floor. Magnificent.

Anyway, there I was, forging a business card in my hand (don't ask me how I hoped the handmade forgery would pass inspection, I just did it) and then I came across the lobby. In the lobby, there was this fireplace off to the right, and a crowd of young people sitting around listening to this young man, who was regaling them all from his vantage point to the left of the fireplace on which he was leaning. Tall, he was, toned, fit, shock of blonde hair, kilt. Looked vaguely like Jason Connery did back when he was in Robin of Sherwood, when he replaced Michael Praed.

Anyhow, there was I, and the young lad called me over. We had a chat, and he explained the ground rules, that you had to be let in by a Steward, and that you had to either be a member or have a member in good standing vouch for you. So I wandered away towards the stairs, and someone said "Oi! You'd better get permission from the Steward!" and I asked the man "Are you he, then?" to which he replied "No, it's that young man with the kilt back there."

Anyway, along comes the Steward, and I hand him the forged business card, saying that a member in good standing was, in fact, vouching for me. The Steward reluctantly let me go, so I went upstairs to the first floor, where I was supposed to be meeting this person who was here.

Why this person couldn't vouch for me, I have no idea. Maybe they weren't expecting me to be so brazen as to meet me in their private sanctum sanctorum. Doesn't matter anywa, because I didn't stay here long enough to make myself acquainted with anybody.

The restaurant was a plush five star affair, all men in black tie, women in gorgeous clothes, everyone looking like they spend money like I expel urine: daily, in large quantities and without a thought about it because there's always more where that came from.

No sign of the person I was going to meet, so I began to wander along some of the outlying corridors. I was alone when the Steward finally arrived, looking like thunder. Whoops. Busted.

So he politely, yet very firmly, told me that I was to accompany him as he escorted me out of the building. He took me by the arm and began to lead me out through the restaurant.

And then one of the waiters, somehow in the act of transporting a vast tureen full of peas through the restaurant, accidentally overturns his trolley, upending the tureen and spilling a tidal wave of small, bulletlike green garden peas all over the floor.

Cue the Steward, and a load of people, all slipping and tumbling about on the peas. Then inexplicably I found myself going down the spiral stairs and out. I woke up at that point, wondering what in the name of all that's Rimblesque that was all about.

And no, I didn't venture a peek up the Steward's kilt to see if he was wearing any kecks. I didn't want to know, and besides, it was my dream. :)