Monday, April 07, 2008


Last night I had a dream. One of my earliest teachers (Murphy) was showing the class of 10 year olds how to meditate (not likely). While we had our eyes closed he walked over and slapped several of us across the face.

It came as quiet a shock and I felt the sting so clearly that it woke me up, sort of.

I realised I was dreaming and found myself semi-awake. In a lucid dreaming state. So I decided it was time for a little revenge. In the dream, which I was now fully conscious of, I stood up and hit him back. He went flying across the classroom, bumped his head off the wall and while he was in that stunned state, I pulled off his tweed trousers (ever so respectable) went to his desk, where he had stashed his bottle of vodka. Poured that over the trousers and set them alight. He woke up at this stage and stumbled to his feet. So I charged and hit him in the stomach with my head. He went flying out the window (first floor) into the playground below. The flaming trousers followed. Then I went back to the meditation with the other students and we all hummed in perfect harmony and contentment.

People sometimes wonder where a cheerful guy like me gets all the anger from. Well folks, a lot comes from being beaten every day in school when I was a lad. That's where my intense dislike for bullies comes from too. Although I really and truly believe in turning the other cheek and working with people, there comes a time and often it's very early in the situation, where a good retort is absolutely necessary. It comes out in my paintings more than anywhere else.

1 comment:

Ellen said...

Some dream, huh? Bastard teachers. We had one who used to hit us on the palm of our hands with a long flat steel bendy rod. Hard. She was a nun and we were 5 year old kids who got a spelling wrong.