I became tired of my dreams; tired by them.
They were dull and unimaginative, as reflected in my dream diary, which contained all the excitement of political party pamphlet.
While googling how to add drama to my dreams, I stumbled upon a website offering dreams to download, a pack of them created by AI.
According to the site, AI bots had mined the internet for the most fantastical stories of all time, from epic adventures to the most romantic, forbidden trysts. There were escape room packs, fame and infamy, superhero role play, leading a country, fighting a war. I even saw one available to purchase that promised you could become a character in your favourite TV show.
How to pick from such a choice?
I decided to lucky dip it and let them decide for me. Anything was better than another dream about remembering to put the bins out.
Before I completed the purchase, a box flashed up on the screen warning me I’d not turned off nightmares. But why would I? We all know they’re needed sometimes.
Once I’d finished, I spent the rest of the day looking forward to bedtime. What kind of dream would I have? Might I time travel? What if there were dinosaurs or mythical creatures?
Maybe I’ll meet Kylie.
When bedtime finally came, with a fizz of excitement I plugged myself in for the night, waiting for whatever was to be delivered to me in my sleep.
And yet I woke the next morning disappointed. What a waste of time and money that was.
All that happened was I walked down an endless version of a road I already knew well, past the partially pixelated shopfronts and dull-faced strangers, bumping into people I used to work with for a chat about what I’m up to now, interspersed with snippets from old episodes of The Bill playing out around me.
I felt compelled to leave a review of my experience, detailing the lack of scenic detail. Like a platform computer game from the early nineties, I added.
Before going to bed the next night, I reread The BFG. That’s the kind of action I’m looking for in my sleep.
In my dream that night, I woke up in bed next to the Queen. Sensing someone else next to me, I peered over other side only to discover Richard Osman drooling on his sleeping, smiling face.
It took me a while to realise it was a dream. Nothing wrong at all with being the marmalade in that sandwich.
I decided to watch an old episode of Baywatch before bed the following night.
vss #73
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