Mad dreams

It was about an hour afterwards that I started to feel sad again. When I had the head on it all seemed to make sense. Life was simple. Achievable. I was just Lego Man. Big tall reliable Lego Man. I was wrapped in pink, fashionably dressed, constantly smiling, hitting that damn Spotty Frog with that gimp gummy bear thing.

An hour later I had crossed London in the rain, and once again I was installed in a penthouse full of antiques, dressed like a geography teacher, with just this weird head on with all the hairy bits. The inflatable balloons with “LOVE” written all over them had been replaced by possible tiny pathogens. Lego Man could’ve fought off the blues even though his eyes are in his mouth. Lego Man was still in Bond Street though. My head is smaller, and often it gets full of noise.

I sat in my flat feeling sad.

Thankfully I have good friends, even if it’s hard to raise them these days. I ended up in a long conversation with a dear friend, taking tea and finding a way to paint the smile back on without the Lego Head.

We are still a long long way from home.

The tube is empty. Completely empty. I would’ve walked into work like I did at Christmas, but the rain had other ideas, and so I went underground. And the tube is a ghost town. If I wanted to catch Covid I’d be much better off choosing vegetables. Still, I didn’t put my hand on anything just in case.

You have to be alert, as the drivers close the door as soon as it’s open. They’re used to finishing their rounds in record time. If you’re dreaming you’ll miss your stop. There’s no faffing. I very nearly DID miss it.

Christmas ads vie for your attention with health warnings and the occasional leftover summer festival banner. The few people who are using it are isolated and scattered. Leaving the station at Bond Street at noon it struck me that we are hopefully never going to know another time where London is so peaceful. I might look back on this and miss it. I bet the people who live in Soho are sleeping well for the first time in years. It’s probably them licking all the avocados in the hopes they can sleep well for another six months, the buggers.

I’m in the bath now, with my big teapot, surrounded by candles, trying to cheer myself up so I don’t have chaosdreams again. My dreams are bonkers these days. Psychedelic crazy madness. I dreamt I was a Lego Man, hitting a spotty frog with a gummy bear, and somebody was paying me to do it.

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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