A Twitter dream diary

Where in the world can you jump on a bus being driven by a green-haired lesbian, hang out of the window as it speeds round corners without risking serious injury or death, and set off an on-board smoke machine without having even paid for a ticket?

The answer, sadly, is nowhere, unless you happen to live in my head. Yes, I lived through the above scenario, albeit through the medium of dreamland. The lesbian was great fun, as it happens - she was on her final ever shift so we had an impromptu bus rave before calming down and marvelling at the redder-than-usual lunar eclipse. Luckily the other passengers didn't mind because there weren't any.

Brilliant dreams such as these don't come around too often, so it's important to revel in their memory when they do. A flaw of the human mind, though, is that dreams tend to be forgotten in minutes - unless it involves Ann Widdecombe sitting on your face, the image of which is inescapable and will accompany the victim to the grave. Fortunately, I've never had that dream. Nope. Not even close. Definitely not, no siree. Please stop talking about Ann Widdecombe now. You're making me feel queasy.

Rather than let the good dreams escape into the memory bin, I've decided to use Twitter as a means of recording them. After all, I work in media - so like other media wankers, I've done away with the humble pen and paper in favour of 'social'. That way, I can share my thoughts and 'witticisms' with 'the world', presuming people want to read them (my last three followers are a Kent-based Labradoodle breeder, a guest house I've never stayed at in Torquay and my brother's girlfriend - the last of whom is undoubtedly a sympathy follow - so I'm guessing perhaps not).

Anyway, my Twitter dream diary isn't designed to entertain others. It's for me to remember how warped my mind is when it would rather I forget - it's sneaky like that. While this is normally highly amusing - if not occasionally borderline worrying - some dreams are just too open-ended. Take the following example from 28th May: "My dream ended with someone nondescript telling me I'll have something from Gary's kitchen."

I have since Googled (which is a bona fide verb, by the way, Microsoft Word) 'Gary's kitchen'. The first entry details a takeaway in Edinburgh; the second, rather coincidentally, refers to 'Gary's kitchen nightmares'. Whether either of these has any relevance is unlikely, so I'm still waiting with bated breath to taste Gary's culinary delights.

Until then, the only thing I have to worry about is whether to tell a friend about 'that' dream involving his mum.