day-glo dreams

I met [P] and [M] at the pub. It was a really weird one – apparently Hammer House of Horror were filming there. Everyone in the place was dressed in middle-of-the-road 60s clothes, lots of middle-aged women in long, pastel dresses. Two bands played. The first one had a guy who looked like Buster Bloodvessel, he was wearing a cape and had a midget playing a cheap casio keyboard. He was obviously really badly miming to a pre-recorded track. The second act had the audience in stitches (for some reason) – a trio, but I can only remember two of them – a man who looked like an egg playing a snare drum and a psychopatic WWII bomber pilot on vocals. He had a weird black, conical device with a piece of corrugated tubing coming from it, which changed his voice when he sang
through it. Someone in the crowd shouted “He sounds like a Dalek!” before almost choking to death with laughter

After the pub [P] and [M] came back to the flat. We stayed up talking until the next day and then it was time for them to leave. We were standing on the fire-escape saying our goodbyes when the postman came up – a geeky blonde fellow, a bit like McKenzie Crooke. He said he was here
to do a health check on our mailbox and had brought Jimmy Page along as part of a promotion by Royal Mail. Fair enough, I thought. We went down the fire-escape and I saw a huge car parked in the drive. Jimmy Page was in the front seat staring into space, looking embarassed. I’ve no idea what Page looks like now, but in this dream he was a cross between David Keenan and Garry Glitter. The mail box in question was attached to the garage door. I went over to it with the post man and [P]. [M] was leaning into the front window of Jimmy Page’s car and telling him to move it since it was blocking the drive, oblivious to who he is – or at least pretending to be indifferent! Meanwhile I’m pointing at the car and yelling to [P] – “Look! It’s Jimmy Page!” and [P] is looking everywhere but the car and saying “What? In that tree?” etc. Eventually [P] gets the message and goes over to Mel to ogle Mr.Page through the car window. Page is still staring into space looking embarassed. “I guess the reuinion didn’t go too well, then?” I say to the postman. I look over to the car and see that [P] is feeling faint – he goes to sit down in a rockery, on a cement toadstool next to a fishing gnome. Then
for some reason I become ecstatic… Insanely excited I scream at the sky: “JIMMY PAGE IS HERE TO SEE MY MAILBOX!” The dream cuts to a far away stretch of moorland, my words can be heard echoing in the distance.