Had a disturbed night’s sleep yesterday which means just one thing, Weird Dreams. Not planning to turn VGR into Stevenger‘s Nap-Time Journal, but I was quite amused by this particular one and wanted to make note of it.
After a mad, obstacle-filled rush which I’ll elide for brevity’s sake, I found myself arriving late to a crowded work-type meeting down by the local Civic Offices. This was presided over by Minerva McGonagall from Harry Potter, in the person of Dame Maggie Smith herself obviously. Because of dream-logic, it was also only a LARP with no other recognisable faces present, so props to her for turning up. I’m fairly sure I was the Not-Snape of the piece. Partly because I kind of had the hair, and partly because upon arriving and finding a spot at the back of the room I was informed that I’d missed the allocation of teaching places/parts and so wouldn’t be able to be the Master Of Potions this year.
“What?” I said, advancing slowly and all the time conscious that I shouldn’t break character. McGonagall stammered a little, “Well, you could be the Master of … oh, fiddlesticks!”
“Do I look like a Master Of Sticks?” I asked, Samuel L Jackson‘s question about Marcellus Wallace in Pulp Fiction flashing through my mind.
“It’s a game the children play, you drop a stick off one side of the bridge and run to the other… For fun!”
“Fun how? Fun like a clown?” I riposted, all the time semi-lucidly aware that all these gangster film paraphrases were incredibly bad roleplaying and I should feel bad.
Annoyingly I forget what she said next, but I performed an immediate volte-face complete with the words “Oh, that’s alright then!” no less and resumed my place at the back of the room, before promptly waking up. Unsatisfying, but that’s dreams for you!
tl;dr – I now delight in the title Master Of Fiddlesticks (abbreviated M.F., no less!)
Freud would have had a field day with me.
Liked picnics, did he? Narf!