mrry (Happy New Year)
 
Dreams The Award Dinner 6/Jan/2003

I am back at the New Year's Eve party where I had been the night before. I find that I have accidentally brought my digital camera with me, so I ask people to pose for photos. One of my friends takes umbrage at this, and wrestles me to the floor, almost causing me to drop the precious camera. He rants about not wanting his picture taken. Fortunately, another of my friends takes the camera from me, and puts it somewhere safe.


I wake up slightly dazed (actually a false awakening, because I believe that I am really awake), and stumble out of bed. My room is in the wrong place, and from the door, I walk down a flight of stairs to a lounge. Embarrassment sets in, because I'm only wearing a pair of boxer shorts, and most of my extended family is sitting around a large table in the lounge.

The lounge is redolent of a 1960's pub, probably in the east end of Glasgow. I take my seat at the table, and nobody bats an eyelid at the scantiness of my clothing. It transpires that we are actually in a subterranean Chinese restaurant, so I order some food. I look at my surrounds, and I particularly notice that the signs pointing to the toilets direct patrons up the entry stairs, and outside. I feel a little squeamish to be eating so far from convenience.


I am in the gym of an American high school, on the basketball court. Sharing the court with me is my entire year group at school, and the scene is chaotic. Furthermore, there are crowds of people watching from the bleachers. I have a basketball, and take a shot, but the ball does not even reach the backboard. As the commentator makes a cruel jibe over the tannoy, I run out in shame.

On my way out, I look up at the clock, and see that it is only three o'clock, whereas the session is scheduled to run until half past. I decide, therefore, to run back into the hall, pantomime fashion. I find that the hall has been set up for a banquet, with one huge table running the length of the basketball court. I also seem to have changed into a tuxedo.

I find some of my friends, who are to be sitting next to me. A particular old friend sits next to me, and congratulates me on winning an award. She shows me the certificate, which announces that I have won an award for innovative webmastering [arf]. It then dawns on me that the gathering of family was to celebrate this, and they must just have been tolerating my eccentricity, vis a vis the underwear.

 
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