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While I was Dreaming
Welcome to The Dreamery. There have been a few changes, but my blog is still simply a random series of Thoughts and fantasies, examining my past and my impossible future. Nothing on this blog is a lie. When I say nothing that follows is made up you can be sure it is the truth. Even the dreams are real dreams that I have had . And all the fantasies are my real fantasies.

There are however some questions which may never be answered:
Is it possible to actually laugh your arse off?
How sick is a parrot?
Are sandboys truly happy?
And just how mad is a box of frogs anyway?

And mostly, I do have it all in perspective!
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The Wrong Kind of Evocative
Posted:Mar 3, 2015 10:47 am
Last Updated:Mar 19, 2015 3:47 am

They say a smell can be the most evocative way to bring back a memory - we've all blogged about it.

But this was a much less pleasant experience.

I went into town to get a haircut. I went to a fairly new place which I only started going to recently, but the pleasant woman who cut my hair the last couple of times wasn't there. Still, the place was empty, and a girl took my jacket and asked me how I wanted it cut. (I assumed she meant my hair, not the jacket. )
I said, "just neat and tidy, there's not much more you can do with it these days," but she didn't smile so I hoped I might get away without too much conversation. I did, but it wasn't worth it. As soon as she started cutting I became aware of a not very nice smell wafting about me. At first I couldn't place it. I wondered if she maybe had bad breath. Then suddenly it hit me right between the nostrils.

OMG! I haven't smelt anything like that since Scuffer Morgan accidentally shoved his arse in my face bending down in a cramped changing room after a school rugby match. Funny guy, Scuffer. Walked with his toes turned in, bandy legged, like a cowboy, only without the hat. He could run though. I found myself thinking about him as I tried to work out where the appalling smell was coming from. I wonder what became of him? Did he make a success of his life? Has he been happy as an adult? He always struck me as one of those people who never got his fair share of good luck, but you never know, things might have changed for him. If I bothered more with social media and the old boy network I suppose I could look him up, but I think I'll leave it. Odd that I should remember him at all though really, and I wouldn't have were it not for the fact that here I was, having my haircut by a woman who smelled like his sweaty arse.

At first I thought she was just lax in personal hygiene. It wasn't exactly a shitty smell, more that sort of unwashed sweaty bum smell, hence recalling Scuffer, but then I started to notice that the smell only wafted by when her scissor hand was in front of my face. Oh Lord, it was on her fingers! I tried very hard not to think about how it got there. She finished, showed me the back in a mirror, I paid and came straight home. I'd had a bath when I got up in the morning, but I found I wanted another one.

I can still imagine that there is something faintly whiffy following me about even now. I didn't give her a tip, but perhaps I should have - "wash your arse before you go to work!"

Posted:Feb 27, 2015 3:19 am
Last Updated:Mar 18, 2015 10:23 am

This is just by way of staying in touch really. I have nothing much to say except things like: lkzxjcovm a\jneroiujLKDF iuzsdhiuhsn, and huhj, izhdsjn nmsjchyhysdnjwq.

Dreamer out.
Posted:Feb 4, 2015 11:27 am
Last Updated:Mar 13, 2015 8:09 am

I know, I haven't been around much, sorry. But having learnt a new word today, and seeing as how Valentine's Day is approaching, I thought you guys were the appropriate people to share it with.

The word is: "Marshmallificate." If it ever gets an entry in the Oxford English Dictionary it will say something like; Verb, transitive: the process of turning something into a marsh mallow.

I don't know if marsh mallows are called something else in America, that might make this post meaningless to 86.42% of my readers.

But. Pushing. On. (Sorry, just wondering if H was reading. )

I was watching TV, and an advert came on telling me how I could send in my photo to this company and they would "marsh-mallificate it" and send a box of them to my girl-friend as a Valentine gift. Sadly, it only reminded me of that weird company someone, (probably Hippiechick but I can't remember ) who were marketing a process for cloning cocks so women could have exact replicas of their man's instrument while they were away from home. )

But despite a natural aversion to really cheesy ideas like this, it kind of appealed to me. And I really like the sound of the word.

I wouldn't have a photo of myself marshmallificated though. I would go with something far more edible. Any ideas?
If I'm Wearing a Hat
Posted:Jan 9, 2015 6:08 am
Last Updated:Mar 13, 2015 8:08 am

I am seriously pissed off with this whole aging process. I mean don't get me wrong, I am still listening to future me; the sixty-five year old me reminding me how important it is to make the most of where I am now, not to waste time wishing I was younger.

But I do find it difficult when I take my hat off. As long as I keep wearing one, women of all ages are happy to smile and flirt with me. No one does when I take my hat off. (Unless they already know me, that's different. I've never really been one who could be charming on looks alone, but conversation, over time, works for me. Maybe that's why I like it here - communication is my ally.)

But, on a superficial level, I have always liked that moment when your eyes meet with a strangers and there is that mutual recognition of attraction, even though you both know you probably don't want to go as far as to do anything with it.

I have a lot of different hats, but they all have one thing in common - they hide the grey hair and the fact that there's not much of it left!
Talking Blogging With My Best Friend
Posted:Jan 7, 2015 6:20 pm
Last Updated:Jan 28, 2015 5:41 am

I had dinner with my best friend this evening. I've known him most of my life, but these days we don 't get together as often as we would like, and it has been a while this time. It was a great evening - we slipped straight into talking about things that matter to us, sharing views on the world and on how people act, what motivates us, what we still want from life. I love spending time with him, we both agreed we tend to forget how much. I like the person I become when I am in his company - he reminds me of who I want to be.

At one point it became a little surreal as we talked about some of you guys. He knows I have a blog on some kind of "alternative" website, I don't say where. I have always said that whilst there isn't anything in my life I couldn't talk to him about, I would feel differently about this place if he found me here. And if he looked, he'd know it was me. He gets that.

But it was fun discussing what I know about some of you guys with him. We talked about the obsessive compulsive one, and the one who gets off on teasing her; the one who read everything; the guy who posts pictures of trees; the one who loves the moon; the one who sometimes wishes she was a skank; the ones I used to be in love with.

The one who died.

It made me realise again what an amazing place this is, how much so many of the people I know here come to think of it as a sanctuary. For some of us, it's the place where there will always be a friend who will be going through something similar, or even if they are not, will try to understand what matters. My friend is the exception to a general rule that in real life we are mostly less open than we are with people here.

He asked me how the people who read my blog would have found it in the first place. He meant the website more than my particular blog. What would they have been looking for, he wanted to know. I explained that I couldn't say too much without risking giving tempting clues as to where to look, but in trying to describe it, I found myself saying that the blogging aspect of the site has very little to do with its main purpose. That in fact many people who write blogs say little on their profiles other than "just here to blog." That many of us come to the site looking for something else, we might not even know quite what. But, unexpectedly we find a group of bloggers who are all about empathy, understanding, relationships and human nature, and that is what keeps us here, often long after we would have lost interest otherwise.

Maybe we are a small subset of the blogs as a whole - the seekers, the questioners, the wanna-be self aware. Because there are other types of blogs too of course. But I notice that if I go to read what I think is an interesting, but randomly found blog, I find names I recognise among the commenters. How can that happen when there are thousands and thousands of blogs? You and me are drawn to the same sorts of themes, that's how. And unlike many other blogging sites, which seem to me to be more like places to self publish journalism or diaries, in our little subset it is about interaction. The comment threads are as important as the posts themselves. I always get more out of these blogs when I read the comment threads as well as the posts.

I'm going to bed now, it's late. I wonder what all you guys have been doing?

I wish Rose was here. I could call her. But it still isn't the same as blogging with her.....
Some Christmas Wishes
Posted:Dec 22, 2014 4:19 pm
Last Updated:Dec 19, 2019 9:30 am

This Christmas I wish I could have sex with Ed Sheeran's dance partner in the "Thinking Out Loud" video.

Back in the real word here are some more realistic Christmas wishes for some other people I wish I could have sex with.

RainbowSox – "E," I have said before that I love to read your take on life, and your good heartedness over almost everything is so infectious. Even when you are pissed off about something. And now we get two blogs for the price of one! Hi H, if you are reading. No messing with the order of E's stuff in the night now, at least over Christmas, okay?

Violette – I hope you have a great Christmas with your and nothing stresses you out! I've really enjoyed blogging with you this year both when we've been serious and when we're just playing about. Looking forward to more next year and hoping you keep getting a better handle on life as time goes on.....Maybe your wish will come true, lol.

MostWantonWench – You looked really beautiful in a picture I saw of you recently. And glamourous in that retro sort of way you do so well. I hope life is better than it was when you wrote your last blog. Happy Christmas.

Tigger – Thanks for telling me to keep on giving in to temptation, even if I never do take you advice. Much. Yet.

Hippiechick – Another year gone. Haven't seen so much of you. Glad you are still around now and again though.

Peterwasted – Hi mate. I shall cast a glance in your direction and wish you a merry Christmas as I drive past Andover on the A 303.

Wildfire – It was good to see you blogging again recently, although I was disappointed Big didn't get a mention – Happy Christmas, and thanks for the way you always make me feel somehow better than I did before every time we exchange comments on your blog.

Torrid_Affair Not sure if you are reading much, and you haven't posted for a while, but if you drop by, I wish you a very happy Christmas, (good luck with your family) I hope the new job is going well and life is happy.

Marysia – Merry Christmas to you and Roy, and love to your sister..

Kay – Hey there Kay. I know you don't celebrate Christmas, but all the same I hope you have a happy time. Looking forward to finding out more about the shops in your neighbourhood in the New Year, lol!

SexySixties I seem to have got to know you just as you have stopped blogging, but your cleavage is always welcome here on my blog.

Passioncork Thanks for coming by and commenting. I wish I could think of something clever and personal to say that only you would understand but I can't think of anything which probably means I don't know you well enough. I was beginning to, and then got lost somewhere! Maybe this year.....

Thank you to everyone who has come by and commented.

As finally as always, a few hellos to some special people who haven't been around that much, but might just be dropping by:

Amakamaria – You never stay away for ever, I love the fact that we are friends, but I love to see you here too.

Zandigal – This time last year you dropped by unexpectedly here, so if you do again, Happy Christmas!!!!

Bubbles, Stormyroses. How come I never hear from you guys any more. Maybe come back for another No Filters February?

Colorado Rose. I know you said you wouldn't be signing in any more, but......it seems to have become a tradition for me to wish you Merry Christmas here just in case you do. You know how I feel about you, and we'll be talking anyway, but I still miss you being here to talk about who else is blogging.

I also have to say goodbye to TheRedHeadinHeat.
I don't know what else to say, I thought about just not mentioning her, but.....I just wanted to say goodbye. Not the sort of goodbye I ever expected to say for anyone here.

Christmas is still my most favourite time of year. I will be spending it with people who love me, and for that I am extremely grateful. I wish everyone who is lonely this Christmas some unexpected love interest to keep their hearts pumping.

Okay, I'm outta here, and I'll reply to anyone else who drops by when I get back in the New Year, loveyouthankyoubye!
Cowboys Eat More What?
Posted:Dec 16, 2014 3:13 am
Last Updated:Dec 23, 2014 12:53 am

Oh, "clock" ! - "The Dallas Cowboys' offense eats more clock," is what he said. Sorry, I misheard that for a moment.
French Dreams of Composite Lovers
Posted:Dec 15, 2014 5:04 am
Last Updated:Dec 18, 2014 2:59 am

I needn't bother to write the rest actually, the title says it all. Well, pretty much.

I dreamt last night I was reading blog comments and emails from redrose1978. Except she wasn't completely Rose, she was part Rose with bits of Rainbowsock, The Lioness and a couple of other people thrown in, and I was still in love with her. Also the emails were in French; numbered points up to eleven or twelve, with translations alongside. I have no idea why. It seemed to be an ongoing discussion related to an email I had previously sent her. A lot of it was about how close we still were and how wonderful she thinks I am but why we can't be together. Most of that part was fictional I think, although sadly I can't remember any details.

It was nice, all the comments were fun and kindly written, (just like Rose in real life really, ) but it left me feeling uneasy for some reason I can't quite explain. I lay there for a while trying to get back into the dream, but I couldn't sleep. I was wishing I could have a dream about my life long Dream Girl Lover - I haven't dreamt about her for a while, and she normally visits every couple of years or so. I wonder what she's doing?
Only Fools and Angels
Posted:Dec 11, 2014 2:56 am
Last Updated:Jan 5, 2015 5:40 am

Looking for the perfect person is a lot more dangerous than you think.

I’m not arguing with the people who say they want the real thing, that they don’t want to “settle” for second best. But leaving aside the view that actually, there is no such thing as the perfect relationship, the fact remains that the more perfect the person you fall for, the worse it feels if it all falls apart. Real "true love" carries an almost unbearable burden. The knowledge that by loving this person, we put ourselves in an extraordinarily vulnerable position.

Sometimes the person you love changes, or turns out not to be quite who you thought they were. Or you change. Or, even if the love never changes, people can be unexpectedly taken from you by illness or accident. The greater the love, the harder its loss is to bear, the more ways in which you will never be quite the same again.

Thankfully, we are all born ignorant of - and for a time remain capable of ignoring - the potential cost of really loving someone. Some people become less able to face it as they accumulate what is often euphemistically called "baggage. " Others soldier on, forever hopeful, perhaps not even noticing if they have become slower to take risks with their feelings. Some, a brave and wonderful few, stay young at heart. Setbacks never phase them, however much they hurt. They have the faith to take the risk again, whatever the potential cost.

The most dangerous thing of all is the knowledge that sometimes love works out. Some couples really do live happily ever after. Most of us believe that whether it lasts or goes wrong, being in love is usually worth it, and we secretly harbour the hope that maybe this time, (or next time, ) this will be the one that lasts forever.
Sometimes we come into contact with a person so in tune with us that our sub-conscious convinces us that here at last is the one within whose love we will be forever safe........and, (like fools, or like angels? ) we rush in and take the greatest risk of all.

Or maybe we are looking for that kind of safety in the wrong place? Some people say that this is the most persuasive argument for belief in the existence of God, that being in whose love we will be forever safe?
A Christmas Request
Posted:Dec 9, 2014 3:37 pm
Last Updated:Dec 15, 2014 4:48 am

Going out to all those members of the general public at large, doing their Christmas shopping:

Posted:Nov 25, 2014 3:43 am
Last Updated:Dec 10, 2014 5:15 pm

Of all the why?s I could be asking, this one comes to mind today:

Why, when you want to use the word which describes something as having a quality like fire, (note the spelling, F I R E..... ) do you have to write fiery, not firey?

Of all the strange things about the English language, this one has me baffled.
Does it Matter Where this Gift Comes From?
Posted:Nov 21, 2014 5:02 am
Last Updated:Dec 15, 2014 3:44 pm

As I sat here, reading blog comments and listening to Gladys Knight, ("cos when I'm feeling low, I don't want to have to go, out looking, for a part time kind of love, " ) I came upon a great blog by PassionCork, and I am sure she won't mind me elaborating on the comment I left for her there.

'Cos you know, I like to think of myself as a "glass half full" kind of guy. Yes, I get down sometimes, but not usually for long. And yes, sometimes I may forget to look, but usually I like to try to see beauty even in unexpected places. There is wonder all around if you look for it, even on a bad day. Like behind the derelict shed round the back of the pub in the Market Place, in the broken pieces of tin roof and the scrub grass growing in the cracks in the torn up tarmac.

And one thing Passion wrote made me think. She mentioned that life is a gift. It's an expression we have all heard of course - the gift of life. Some people have theories about how life started. Me, I can see merit in quite a few of the usual ideas, but I really don't think I, or in fact anyone else actually knows for sure. But wherever life came from - whether you are a follower of science, religion, hearsay, tradition or a mixture of all of them - life really is a gift. OMG what a gift.

I have another gift which someone I love gave to me once for my birthday. This is something both beautiful and practical which I use most weeks. And every time I use it I think of that person and of the thought and love which went into choosing and buying it for me, and I love owning it and using it so very much more because of that. I suppose maybe I have always known that life was like that too, but this morning Passion reminded me of that fact in a very vivid way.

I may not know how I came by life, but I want to try more often to remember to treat it as a gift.

("And when the dreams and rainbows start to disappear, I don't want someone up and running out of here." )
It happened when I was fourteen
Posted:Nov 20, 2014 12:03 pm
Last Updated:Dec 15, 2014 3:43 pm

This isn’t the usual love story, but it is true none the less. It started when I was just fourteen years old, at boarding school. I didn’t exactly fall in love with an older woman, and there was no sex involved, but the effect she had on me may have helped make me the sentimentalist I have become.

Ah the good old days, the good old days. Come to think of it, as bad as we think they are, these will become the good old days for our . I was impressionable of course, but as I lay in bed at night listening to her I wasn’t aware that I was laying the foundations for an affection which would last me a lifetime. And in all that time she has never let me down. Sometimes I feel lonely of course, now that I don’t hear from her as often as I used to. But when I do hear her voice it makes me feel warm inside, and I feel like everything is right with the world. And her face – that look on her face when she nods and tells of all the moments she has spent “just loving you.”
Who that “you” is, I don’t actually know – I always knew it wasn't me of course. I expect I could find out but it doesn’t matter. You can see from her face the woman knows how to love. And I’d rather live in her world, than live without her in mine.

Maybe you have figured out that I am talking about Gladys. I used to listen to Radio Luxemboug under the bedclothes at school every night, waiting for them to play “The Way we Were.” (I know some people prefer the Barbara Streisand version - it’s up to them, but I don’t think it has the empathy you get from Gladys. And that voice. )

I know this isn’t a music site. Except that a lot of people write the odd blog about music, because I think music, love, sex and deep emotions all seem to go together. So I don’t expect you all to get it. But if you want to know what I am talking about, and you have the time to spare, watch the live version of “The Best Thing that ever happened to me.” The one with her wearing a weird kind of seventies yellow trouser suit. (Make sure you have good speakers, or your headphones in or you just don't hear the full depth of it. ) Then try comparing that, and her “Midnight Train to Georgia” with the versions of the songs by the original, (and brilliant, ) song writer, Jim Weatherly. Yes, he wrote great songs, but without Gladys they would have remained an obscure footnote to his little known career as a singer. Gladys takes that song to heaven, and her live rendition has a warmth even more intimate than her recorded single. In that video she is so at ease with the audience and her singing is totally effortless. Even if she does occasionally look a bit perturbed by the Pips, mincing about like a trio of camp ice cream vendors in a cinema isle. (No slur on campness intended – I love the Pips, but they do look a bit silly seen in hindsight. )

She’s not classically pretty, but wow is she beautiful! And a smile to fall in love with. Given that I have been flirting with country music recently, I am aware that if you don’t get soul / motown, the gorgeous feel of the music, the horns, the whole way the sound is put together, then the emotional warmth of this recording might pass you by. But somehow a love of this woman’s classics has become part of who I am. Watching her has a bit of a time travel element to it for me. I can hardly imagine what it must have been like to have been loved by her.

And the bass lines. ( Because you know how I’m all about the bass, musically even if not so much bootiliciously. ) Especially on “The Way We Were.” Whoever is playing that bass takes the whole feel of the song to another level. Do anyone understand this? It doesn’t matter if you don’t, I’m just curious as to whether it is only me seeing and hearing this.

To link to this blog (hotdreamer1000) use [blog hotdreamer1000] in your messages.

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