My Nightmare

I awoke, replete with fear. Sweat was pouring down my face. My chest was congealed in agony, my lips blistering and dry. For a brief moment I thought myself confined to the deepest chasms of hell, and let out a silent scream of terror.

Then, as vividly as the taste of Breakneck Creek’s South Australian Cabernet Merlot, vintage 2003, danced on my tortured lips, I replayed in my mind the events of my blood-curdling nightmare. As Culture Club’s ‘Do You Really Want To Hurt Me’ echoed in my mind, I knew that I was no safer than I had been asleep, for the cruel and violent demons of the dark were circling me as I lay, entranced, in my cell-like bed.

Fearing for my life, I reached over and fondled the handle of my bedside lamp. Eventually the bulb ignited, bathing the room in cruel but nursing light, and I felt relatively safe. With a second exertion, I grabbed my spectacles and drew these to my tired eyes. It was four o’clock in the morning.

The sound of my young sister’s desolate screams curdled in my mind, and at first I wanted nothing more to do with the haunting sounds and images which had plagued my once-peaceful slumber. However, faint heart never won fair Lady, and so I vowed to face my inner demons there and then. It was painful, yay, but I knew that I really had no other choice. If I did not, then I would be haunted for ions to come.

In my vision, I had been watching television. Naturally, everything was in cold black-and-white, and it was incredibly foggy. My stepfather and my sister were with me, but not with me. They were far from me, and their words were disenchanted. As we watched, the image on the television screen was one of unsurpassed horror. There was a bridge, and as a deep, deep smoke poured from the background, there stepped forward a lone figure, chanting a dark hymn. It was Vic Reeves.

You may not be fully aware of the genuine terror that Vic Reeves can induce in one’s heart. If this is the case, then let me make it quite apparent to you; He was wearing a hat!

“Do you really want to hurt me,” he chanted. The ordeal was already distressing, but it was to become far worse. As he continued, the lyrics of the song became partly inaudible. Only the odd word could be heard emanating from his lips. He sang with an unattached expression on his face; this was not the Vic Reeves we’d come to love through his various comedy shows.

The scope of the situation was soon revealed to us. As the footage was repeated, in slow-motion, Bob Mortimer provided detailed commentary. He reiterated what we already knew all too well; Vic Reeves was trying to sing, but failing. Only certain words were leaving his mouth.

“That’s really interesting,” commented my stepfather. I didn’t think so. I thought it was terrifying. As he continued to sing, “…really….do you…”, my sister burst into violent screams of tears.

I started to stir from my sleep, and so I knew that I was dreaming, but I desperately held on, to hear the end of the song. I knew that the dream was highly symbolic, and that I needed to know how it ended. I was very lucky to last as long as I did.

Vic Reeves chanted those spine-tingling words, which somehow I already knew I was going to hear:

“Richard…and Judy.”

As much as it had brought the anxiety back to me, and as fiercely as my poor heart was beating, the analysis had been of great assistance. I now knew exactly what the dream had meant.

The use of Culture Club on the soundtrack had probably not been necessary. Unless the choice of song itself were somehow significant. Why, I asked myself, hadn’t my mind chosen to use ‘Time’, instead? I love that song.!

‘In time we could have been so much more
and time is precious I knoooow
In time we could have been so much more
But time has nothing to show
Because time won’t give me time
And time makes lovers feel
Like they’ve got something real
But you and me we know
We’ve got nothing but time.’

The meaning of my dream was that I really would like for Richard and Judy to appear on ‘I’m A Celebrity; Get Me Out Of Here!’ I guess that’s not going to happen until they retire from presenting, though.