One I used to have occasionally was about football. I was running down the right wing on to a pass but could never, ever, EVER quite reach it, and it all happened in slow motion. And why the right wing? I could no more cross a ball with my right foot than I could speak fluent Basque. It was for standing on. Not a very good footballer.

(ella) Never mind all that, what about your dreams?

mooooooo i had dream bout a cow driving a bus, it tried to run me over, guess what im going to marry someone called pook!!!!!!!!!!!!

...Rosie's been at the Carlsberg again.

I don't believe in the evils of social drinking, I only ever drink alone and to help me forget.

[Pooksad] forget what?

Aaargghh,must.. resist.. inevitable punchline!!!

dunno, can't remember - (bugger!!)

(Projoy) Never touch the stuff! I'm a bitter man. I'll rephrase that - I drink bitter.

hey, my funeral dreams have returned. what the hell am I worried about THIS time?

[pooksad] oh yes, very good. actually, I loved it, hungry as I am for british humour on this side of the atlantic.

(nights) I wouldn't worry if I were you, it's probably just an irrational fear of your life slipping away followed by eternity in a cold dark hole in the ground, while the people you knew and loved, move in like jackels to pick over the remains of your life. Personally, I like to bear in mind what Hume said, which goes something like "don't try making sense of it all, just go and play pool instead."