Tag Archives: surreal

2635. Felicitous dream

Felicity explained to her friends at school how she had a dream. She dreamt that she went to the local hotel and blocked all the doors and windows so that no one could get in and no one could get out.

Then she went home and went to bed and her father appeared in a dream and said “Felicity, unblock the blocked doors and windows of the hotel so that everyone can go in and out once again.” And Felicity said “Thanks Dad” and went and unblocked the hotel.

After she had unblocked the hotel she went home and went to bed and dreamed that everyone who had been blocked at the hotel came and thanked her for unblocking the hotel and some of them even gave her presents. One person gave her money and said, “That is for unblocking the hotel because I needed to catch the bus.”

So she had had a dream on top of a dream on top of a dream. She dreamt that she dreamed that she dreamed that she dreamed.

As Japonica, Felicity’s friend said: “It must have felt very unreal.”

2236. Strange things

I glanced at my digital alarm clock to see how much longer I had before having to get out of my cosy bed. It said it was seventy-four minutes past twenty-seven (27:74). What the…?

I turned on the bedside light and jumped out of bed. My clothes weren’t there; only a great green gown with a hood. I put it on because I sleep naked and had to put on something before walking around the house. And then I noticed…

This wasn’t my room. This wasn’t my bed. This wasn’t my house. I didn’t know where I was. I drew the bedroom curtains apart and gazed out the window. It was pitch black. Not a star. Nothing. No dark shape of anything.

I began feeling my way around the house, rubbing my hand against the wall in the hope of finding a light switch. There was no switch to be found. Only the dull light from the bedside lamp cast a small glow through the bedroom door. I was in some sort of corridor. Suddenly the bedside lamp…

went out.

I was in total darkness. I could no longer even find the wall to grope along. And then…

I touched it! I touched it! It felt a bit slimy and warm and bristly. I estimated it was about the size of a human but not a human. Not that I really stood there at 27:82 in the pitch black wearing a green hooded gown finding something slimy and warm and bristly and deciding to do a logical analysis. I was petrified.

Next thing my wife was there with her phone with the phone light turned on. I was in our meadow next to the house patting our cow. It would have been funny if it wasn’t surreal. And I had to wash my feet before getting back into bed.

(Footnote: In 2235 stories I have never resorted to a character being in a dream as a resolution to a plot. It’s an easy way out. But it’s only fair that in 2236 stories at least one should end in a dream!)

1741. Filling in her day

What a mess! Frederica had popped out to the shopping mall for a brief period of time – she didn’t want to buy anything but she was simply filling in her day – and when she returned the house was flattened. More than flattened; it was kindling. A jet plane had whooshed from the sky and crashed on top of her house. Thank goodness Frederica lived alone and there was no one inside. She didn’t even have a dog or a cat.

Apparently the pilot had ejected and was safe somewhere else. The fire brigade were at the house but they weren’t doing much; just looking really. There was not much they could do. There didn’t appear to be a flame in sight – just a pile of kindling awaiting fire, and some electric cables that the fire brigade were making sure no one went near.

The plane had hit the house and then had skidded out of the way into a field beyond. The plane was a write-off naturally, and on the way into the field had utterly destroyed Frederica’s back garden and fence.

Frederica was in shock of course, but the scene was so surreal that somehow she had trouble realizing that the pile of stuff in front of her was actually her house. If it hadn’t been for the row of fava beans she had planted neatly to the side of her home, she would not have recognized anything to do with her place.

Frederica went to a fire fighter to ask what happened, and all she got was “Step back, lady, it’s dangerous.” So she stood there by herself and looked. What else could she do? A large gaggle of onlookers had gathered and most were either laughing at the bizarreness of it all or muttering concerns as to whether or not “someone had been inside”.

What added to the strangeness of it all was that no one was asking whose house it was. Not the fire brigade, not the police. Frederica went to a policeman to ask if he wanted her name or anything, and all she got was another “Step back, lady, it’s dangerous” with the addition of “This is no time to be troubling us with silly questions”.

Before too long (they had clearly disconnected the electricity) a large bulldozer and front-end loader arrived and began clearing the house and putting it into large trucks which took everything away to goodness knows where. Frederica wanted to ask “But what about all my stuff?” but the official answered “Lady, stop bothering us and let us get on with the job.” Quicker than Frederica would have thought possible the entire section of land was cleared including the row of fava beans. Even her shattered fence had disappeared.

All of this took no longer than two or three hours (Frederica had lost all sense of time) and in the end, when all was done a man appeared with a sign which he hammered into the ground near where her front gate had once been. It read: LAND FOR SALE.

One by one the gaggle of onlookers disappeared. The fire brigade left. The police left. The heavy vehicles left. Frederica was left alone shocked, confused, and puzzled. It would have made a classic painting of a woman standing forlornly before a subdivision of empty land if only there had been a Cézanne or someone to capture it.

And that’s what can happen if you’ve nothing better to do than wander aimlessly down to the shopping mall to fill in time.

1229. Paranoia overcome

Avis was paranoid, not about spiders, oh no! Not about centipedes, oh no! Not about bugs, or birds, or even terrestrial pulmonate gastropod molluscs, oh no!

Avis was paranoid about tadpoles. If those little slimy eyeballs with a tail could grow legs, what else could they do? Grow claws? Tentacles? Great gnashing teeth?

And the fact that they grew into land-hopping creatures, would they jump out of their pond and leap into her bedroom at night? Avis shut her bedroom window and drew the curtains.

And then the inevitable happened, for this is a story is it not? Avis overcame her paranoia when she kissed a frog and turned into a reptile herself. They married and lived happily ever after.

She and her husband produced a bunch of sprogs, and the sprogs lived happily ever after too. One of them was able to transmogrify into a terrestrial pulmonate gastropod mollusc when it was called for, although eventually it was devoured by a hungry sibling.

1228. Lucky to be alive

Mandy was walking along very nonchalantly one day. Suddenly, her feet fell off.

“Dear me!” thought Mandy. “What an inconvenience. Thank goodness as a child I learnt to walk on stilts.”

She continued her walk. Suddenly her legs fell off.

“Dear me!” thought Mandy. “What an inconvenience. Thank goodness as a child I learnt to walk on my hands.”

She continued her walk. Suddenly her torso fell off.

“Dear me!” thought Mandy. “What an inconvenience. Thank goodness I am walking on my hands.”

She continued her walk. Suddenly the rest of her body from the neck down fell off.

“Dear me!” thought Mandy. “What an inconvenience. Thank goodness as a child I was told to use my brains.”

She continued her walk. Suddenly her head fell off.

“Great Scott!” thought Mandy. “I’m lucky to be alive. How am I meant to do ordinary things like brush my teeth and eat dinner? How am I meant to get a good night’s sleep and mow the lawn?”
Mandy went home and had a nice cup of tea while she pondered what to do next.

674. The butcher


Trent went to the butcher’s. He’d never been to that butchery before. It was a square, high room with walls painted light blue. There was no meat on display, but there were four wooden chopping butcher’s tables arranged in the centre of the room. An older woman – clearly the butcher – sat in a chair against the wall.

“Can I help?” she said.

“Yes,” said Trent, “have you got any lamb chops?”

“Not at the moment,” said the butcher.

“What about beef patties?” asked Trent.

“I suppose you want two?” she said.

“It depends on the size,” said Trent.

Trent stood there. The woman continued to sit. Trent looked around the room. It was very plain. There was nothing hanging on the walls. Not a picture! Nothing! Trent thought she should have hung a carcass of a dead animal there; it would have improved the ambiance.

“This is a nice room,” said Trent.

The butcher continued to sit, like Trent wasn’t there. Then she looked at him.

“Well?” said Trent.

“Well what?” said the butcher.

“The beef patties,” said Trent.

The woman stared at nothing in particular. Trent left.

He kind of felt all wonky in the head. Sort of surreal. To this day he has no idea what was going on.