Dreams

Some people don't remember their dreams at all Ever. That's a bit fucking weird init? What happens to their memories then? There has to be an explanation. Y'see, I've tried erasing my memories before and it takes highly fucking advanced forms of alcohol abuse. And even then I still maintain patchy recollections, vague flashbacks and an underlying ache in my belly that I've come to recognise as my old friend guilt.

So what kind of extreme brain damage are these people doing to themselves while they sleep? I have made it my mission to find out. For the last year I have been sneaking into my housemate Adrian's room at night and watching him sleep. He doesn't know this as I must maintain complete scientific objectivity of the subject. Any knowledge of the experiment may subconsciously affect his natural sleeping pattern.

I was amazed with what I found out. The night began normally, I put my balls in his mouth and held his nose until he went blue, then vigorously took his temperature with my patented penis gauge. Pretty standard stuff really. Then the waiting began. Nothing for the first few hours. The odd twitch, an occasional grunt, then THERE, the rapid eye movement I'd been waiting for. This was the magic happening, I'd seen enough daytime TV to understand that dreamage was at work here. I quickly ran to his head and shined my torch in his ear, but I could see nothing! I couldn't understand. Where was the dream?

But then I heard something, a faint cackle. It was coming from inside. Inside his ear! "Hello" I whispered. The cackling stopped. Then I heard the sound of a thousand tiny footsteps approaching. "Who the fuck are you?" I whispered at the thing coming out of his ear. It looked like what can only be described as a kind of centipede made of human dna, eye-lashes, finger nails, bogeys, bumfluff, you name it and this thing was made of it. "I am the dreamcatcher, who disturbes me while I catch my slumber dust?" "my names Kieron" I said "this is my house". "Mmmm" said the dreamcatcher "Kieron eh, never heard of you." I ignored this blatent insult to my thus far invaluable contribution to humanity and said something which I thought I would never say again after escaping the confines of county Essex

"Dreamcatcher, that's your lot mate, you're taking fucking piss, coming in ere, in my mate's fuckin head, takin all his fuckin dreams, without askin, NOT IN MY FUCKIN GAFF MATE!"

and then I nutted him right on his stupid finger nail chin. "NOW JOG ON BEFORE I DO YA!" and with that the dreamcatcher gave a disgusting little yelp and fled into a vortex in the wall which I have to admit I'd never noticed before. With that Adrian gave a groan and awoke.

"What the fook are yoo doin in my room you fookin queer?"

Ungrateful Northern bastard.