Pointy Town Egg Dream

Last night I dreamt I went to Pointy Town again. I went by way of the Blister Lane Bypass, where important roadworks were taking place. In spite of the fact that I have never in my life been within twenty feet of a pneumatic drill, I took it into my head that I wished, with all my heart, to take part in the roadworks. I hopped off my bus – a number 666 – dodged through the many container lorries thundering along the road in both directions, and, anent a muddy trench, grabbed hold of an unattended machine tool. With sure and steady thumb, I depressed the knob that spurred the machine to life, and proceeded to gouge out crumbly slabs of geological significance from the bottom of the trench. This being a dream, I was able to continue my deft roadworks until I reached the burning core at the centre of the earth. I stilled my machine, and dug through the final layers of rock fragments with my bare hands, and there I discovered an egg.

“This is the egg of the world,” I said, “I wonder what will hatch from it?”

With the egg nestled in a pocket of my Tyrolean jacket, I clambered back up to the earth’s surface. Oddly, instead of finding myself at the Blister Lane Bypass, I was in Pointy Town itself, near the viaduct, outside the Old Collapsing Abandoned Swimming Pool. The door was ajar, and I pushed it open without the least trace of fear and stepped inside. As I did so, I heard the egg in my pocket crack.

In the empty pool, with its distorting acoustics, a jug band, as if awaiting my arrival, struck up a jug band arrangement of “Mother Goose” by Jethro Tull. Was it a goose egg I had in my pocket? I fumbled in my pocket to hoist out the cracking egg. Something nipped my fingers, and I quickly pulled out my hand, eggless. Blood was flowing, far more copiously than one would expect from the tiny bite I had received. I waved my hand and my blood splattered the jug band. They played on, undisturbed.

That is the thing about dreams, they make no sense. They have no significance. I am not even sure what a jug band is. I have never engaged in rogue roadworks. I have never been to Pointy Town.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.