I am under few illusions that I am any sort of creative powerhouse, nor do I think that my imagination sets me apart from the low-browed troglodytes with which I share this world – in many ways quite the reverse, as the blog stands in far from mute testament. However, the rather poor quality of my imaginative life was brought home rather forcefully to me a couple of nights ago.
Before I go any further, I should make it clear just how aware I am that hearing other people’s dreams is even less interesting then being forced to endure their holiday snaps. Disclaimer safely in place, I shall now write about one of my most recent dreams…
As with many dreams, the context was not entirely clear or coherent, but it did seem to revolve around a rail journey into London – though at times I was also offered a helicopter overview of events. For some reason, there was a huge volcanic eruption, followed by a massive flood which totally destroyed the railway for a substantial distance causing major delays to services (in case people are worried, I was uninjured). I realise that this sounds quite exciting and involves a considerable re-think of the geological underpinnings of East Anglia – but the devil, as so often, is in the detail. The quality of the special effects which were used to represent this drama of near-Biblical proportions was laughably low budget. Jerry Anderson did better work on the Thunderbirds back in the Sixties. Frankly, my dream made the Dr Who episodes of the early 1970s seem like Avatar by comparison (though I should perhaps note in the interests of full disclosure that I have never seen Avatar). The volcano and floods were clearly made using a very cheap miniatures and were seriously unconvincing.
Now, I only remember my dreams infrequently upon waking, so I do wonder if perhaps my unconscious mind had already blown the entire of this year’s SFX budget by early May on high budget extravaganzas that I have sadly forgotten. I must admit I have no idea to what financial year my imagination operates, nor the quality of the financial controls and reporting being used – but if this hypothesis is correct, then I feel management heads must roll. Or is it that the cold, dead fingers of austerity are now reaching even so far as my dreams? If so, George Osborne has more to answer for than even his fiercest critics have imagined – though perhaps this may be because they too are afflicted by crippling underfunding of their imaginative faculties.
So, I find I must end with an appeal to the readers of GofaDM. If anyone has some surplus left in their dream budget, would you consider loaning me a little?