Dreams Good and Bad.

I dreamt about the Lady B last night. I remember nothing of it apart from the fact that we were going somewhere in a car. I think she was driving, and I recall a vague sense that she was cross with me for some reason. That’s all right; dreams of the Lady B are pleasant by default whether she be cross with me or not.

I fear tonight might bring a wholly different sort of dream. I’ve just read an old story of mine called The Charlie Club and found it quite disquieting. It tells of a mysterious character called Charles Morgan who might be ghost or superman or something else entirely. He practices cannibalism at a derelict site in an old, inner city neighbourhood, and entertains the local youth while so engaged. It’s a nasty story.

What concerns me is where I got it from. Did it come out of my head, in which case should I be concerned about the unwholesome state of my dark side? Or was it placed there by some mysterious being which hangs around writers, in which case should I be concerned about the kind of mysterious beings hanging around me? This could be the stuff of nightmares.

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And on a lighter note, what about the nightmare that is America at the moment under Trump? It’s in a right old mess, isn’t it? As much as I’m generally a fan of democracy, I can’t help feeling that there’s a case to be made here for having him removed by force. It shouldn’t be too difficult, surely, to make a compelling case for psychosis. And what I don’t understand is why nobody has sued him for defamation over some of the tweets he’s been making lately. Or is the American President immune from such a process?