Dreams | Page 13 | Fab Forum | The Beatles Bible

Ah, now that this thread has been revived, I’ll post this dream (originally typed out someplace else): 

I had this dream about the early Pink Floyd this morning. It started as a sort of documentary thing but soon I was in the story meself, and the band was a cross between the Floyd and my real-life band. We were dealing with The Syd Problem, you know, discussing it among ourselves; Syd had run away and we’d just found him and were keeping him on a short leash, so to speak. (Poor Syd.  ) We were sitting in a rather public place that felt vaguely Costco-eque (it was horrid; Costco is horrid). Rick went to the bathroom, and after more than a decent interval, I began to wonder why he wasn’t back yet (and, okay, perhaps I fancied him just a bit, so was keeping tabs on him  ). ‘Where’s Rick?’ I wondered aloud.

No signs of life Rick and I began to worry a bit. ‘Okay, I know it isn’t cool to call your bandmate out of the loo, but– RIIIICK!!!’ I called.

With that creeping malaise  that you get when you’ve misplaced one of your company, I began scanning the passerby, searching for that familiar face. The rest of the band soon woke to his prolonged absence and began searching for him too. I remember thinking to myself, ‘Why, Rick, why did you have to go and lose yourself now, of all times? Syd’s bad enough; now we have to deal with this on top of it.’

We walked all round the place, searching, for ever so long; we ran across everyone else in the place (or so it seemed), but we never saw Rick again. 

Or at least, I woke up before we found him. I tried to get back to sleep and dream about it some more, but it didn’t work– evidently I don’t dream what I was told to dream. But I have a feeling we would never have found him anyway. 

Little Piggy Dragonfly said
I had a dream last week that I woke up in the middle of, and when I went back to sleep the dream continued! I don’t think that’s ever happened to me before. 

 I wish that had happened to me. I really wanted to find Rick Wright. 

(Hey– there’s another Richard– goes by a different familiar name though. How come I never noticed that before? ) 

I had an involved night. 

Hmm, let’s see… it started with one of my classmates holding a Halloween party to which I was invited. The first bit was at his house; it was a nice party, and I played a bit of guitar, and instead of playing a song I knew, I just came up with a chord progression, and I still remember the chord progression . So I dreamt (part of) a song, just like Paul! 

Then afterwards the party continued somewhere else (the lad drove me there, and in the dream I rather fancied him so it was a bit awkward) some outdoor venue, and I was going about greeting people I’d not seen in a while, and there was a band setting up (!). And that band was early-seventies vintage Pink Floyd. 

Well, I was excited, to say the least, but as the party progressed, the band disappeared, and it was only David Gilmour sitting there with his guitar (hmm… Live At Pompeii connection?) and then they were all gone; something to do with it not being a satisfactory gig or something. Which naturally disappointed me greatly, so I chased them down (literally– running after them like my life depended on it), found Dave, and begged them to come back (oh, I am your biggest fan, etc., etc., all that rot, and I’ll give you an extra thousand or two). 

So somehow it ended up that they were booked at my birthday party instead, but hey, I wasn’t complainin’  And then the dream turned a corner… 

…and I wasn’t me, I was this character named Dove, and this time I quite fancied Dave (in real life I fancy Rick Wright  but whatever you say, dream-brain) and was possibly engaged to him…   Anyways he turned part bird and flew off (he was mostly handsome-human-shaped 😉 but had lovely great pale-grey wings, and soared most magnificently– I must draw it), and I was more or less seething with playful jealousy; how can he be so awesome?! He can play the guitar that well AND fly, and I can only play the guitar, not nearly as awesomely. The unfairness! So I was determined to fly, myself, and I counseled the O Wise Ones (who were possibly @Joe and @Zig, I’m not too sure) and they revealed that most anyone could fly, but one had to learn, and in the process your wings would grow. I asked about the small matter of having human hands when not flying *coughguitarplayingcough* and they said that when you weren’t flying, you had regular human guitar-playing hands, which quite put my worries to rest. 

So anyway, I practised my flying, set a date for the wedding (! ! !), and various other things, and there was something to do with John, Cyn, Julian and Ringo in their car, getting it washed, and taking hours and hours, and I don’t know what that had to do with the rest but there ’tis. I was getting a nice little soar on when I woke up… 

… so I never got to see the Floyd playing live.  

Thankfully we have Live At Pompeii.  

Zig said
Holy moly! How do you remember all this stuff? I rarely remember my dreams.

I’ve trained myself to remember dreams that involve Beatley stuffs (and Floydy stuffs, and forumy stuffs). You can too.  

If you sit down in the morning and really try to recall your dreams, you’d be surprised at how much you can remember– it helps me to recall the whole thing a couple times, once I’m fully awake, so it doesn’t turn into yet another dream that evaporates as soon as I’m awake. 

Starr Shine? shouted

I tend to remember my dreams here‘s a thing about remembering dreams.

Interesting. It seems to fit in with my own experiences; I do seem to recall waking up at least twice last night and thinking, ‘I must remember what I was dreaming’, and that other time 

Silly Girl snorewangled

I was then interrupted by Silly Dad creeping into my room to steal the headphones back, so I nearly forgot the dream. Or perhaps that’s how I remembered it at all... I dunno   

I expect I’d have forgotten it if I’d not been woken.