Crazy Dream

So I have just woken up from my afternoon nap (another night of not sleeping is really not a good idea) and felt like sharing just the last little bit of my dream (it's all I can remember and it's a bit weird.

I arrived in Selly Oak (the place I live) off a train to see a mass of police all around. I asked one (who was talking into his radio very quickly) what had happened and he said there had been two "device" detonations in houses on each side of the main road but it was okay because no-one had been harmed and a suspect was in custody.

At this moment an air raid siren started and we both looked at each other, one of us said "uh-oh" (can't remember if that was him or me) and we just ran, in no particular direction. I then looked up at the sky to see a long cylindrical tube headed towards the ground. Others around me noticed it and then, just cheered. It was a truly surreal moment for me.

A white flash and my whole body shook, then I was on the ground. There was a crack across my vision like broken glass and then words appeared: Front part of skull = Cracked; Rear part of skull = shattered; Death = inevitable. The world then sort of fizzed away and two options appeared: Standard funeral; State funeral. I can't remember which I chose.

Then I woke up. A little dumfounded as to the trick my subconscious had played on me. Was this some sort of grisly premonition of my own, and many others, demise (it was particularly vivid). Perhaps my subconscious is more afraid of "Terrorism" or Nuclear Holocaust than my conscious mind. Maybe it is some Freudian head fuck where the nuclear weapon was my mother and I secretly want to fuck everything in sight..... or maybe I just need to stop playing Command and Conquer.

Too fat, or too thin,

Living's now a sin,

Insecurity's obligatory,

When the signs all point to this,

A girl of 15 stands at the mirror,

All she dreams of is to be thinner,

So her hand moves now to the back of her throat,

And all at once room starts to spin,

The image she saw of the "perfect" figure,

Was a criminal concoction produced in a lab,

Too fat, or too thin,

Living's now a sin,

Insecurity's obligatory,

When the signs all point to this,

A boy of 15 stands at the mirror,

And all he sees is his skin could be clearer,

So he grabs at the soap and he scrubs and he scrubs,

Till the skin falls off and the bone is smooth,

The image he saw of the "perfect" figure,

Was a criminal concoction produced in a lab,

With the things that are shown,

On screen in the magazine,

Every day is another nightmare,

Nobody should, 

Feel the way that they do,

But the way that we do 

Is a pain that we share.

Obesity a buzz word thrown around at will,

All geared up to sell you this pill,

But next time you see,

A 6 stone model on the page 3,

Be aware of the advert,

Selling you that big mac.

Too fat, or too thin,

Living's now a sin,

Insecurity's obligatory,

When the signs all point to this,

The image you saw of the "perfect" figure,

Was a criminal concoction produced in a lab.

When I see a child, with a child, it reminds me why I'm pro-choice; because I'm pro-life.

To the polticians

Don't you see what you have done,

With all your theft and lies?

A man named Griffin he has won,

A seat in Europe, big surprise?

I love

http://textsfromlastnight.com/ ... brilliant

"(817): After 4 hours of foreplay he passed out and almost immediately peed in my bed. Naked. Like a fountain. Then tried to deny it in the morning by saying he just sweats a lot."

"(206): Sometimes I get depressed that my son is too young to understand how hot his babysitter is."

"(907): I think condoms have that nasty latex smell to remind you in the morning of how gross you are."

"(423): Apparently I masturbate in my sleep now."

"(617): i would really appreciate it if you would stop texting my girlfriend.
(508): i would really appreciate it if you would stop cock blocking me."

"(407): you definitely have a few illegitimate kids
(1-407): probs. Not too worried about it though. MOst girls are too embarrassed that they let me into their pants that they'll never admit its mine"

Following on

Simply because I couldn't be arsed to edit my post below.

Here is a poem about Whitby Jet by John Dunne. It's also the source of the terms "as black as jet' or "jet black".

I'm proper excited now =)

A Jet Ring Sent

Thou art not as black, as my heart,
Nor half so brittle as her heart, thou art,
What wouldst thou say? Shall both our properties by thee be spoke,
Nothing more endless nothing sooner broke?

Marriage rings are not of this stuff,
Oh, why should aught less precious, or less tough
figure our loves? Except in thy name thou have bid to say,
I am cheap, and naught but fashion, fling me away.

Yet stay with me since thou art come,
Circle this fingers top, which didst her thumb.
Be justly proud, and gladly safe, that thou dost dwell with me.
She that, Oh, broke her faith, would soon break thee.