mon rêve d'une fois
Jun. 3rd, 2005 09:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jawnbc[![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
querrelle made me tell you. Flame him]
I rarely remember my dreams; I’m a coma sleeper. It can be at times difficult to get to sleep, but once I’m in REMs I’m out of it. You make think I’m terribly deprived, but the few dreams from my childhood I recall are almost all nightmares. I’ll stick with brain dead, tanks very much.
But on to the dream...
It turns out that there were major irregularities in the televote for this year’s Eurovision--and Malta won after all. Now the Maltese are by far the most Eurovision enthusiastic country in Europe. Their best performers slug it out year after year to represent their wee island; as a result they’re almost always top 10. They probably partied in the streets for like 6 months and put our Chiara up for sainthood with the Vatican (Malta’s very Catlick).
And then we’re a year ahead, and the Contest just ended in Valletta. No I don’t know who won, and now I can’t tell you if the Maltese did a fine job hosting or not. But what I can tell is that I cajoledquerrelle to come along with me. Unfortunately we couldn’t get a seat on the gazillion flights between London and Valletta on Air Malta--so we took the train London-Valletta.
For the geographically challenged, the UK is not attached to the rest of Europe; ditto for Malta. So the train went through the Chunnel™, through France, to Marseille, where they loaded the whole damned thing onto a ferry. And we were on the Maltese Railway. And no, I don’t think one can even do this in the real world. It’s a frickin’ dream, get over it.
To get back to the UK for our flight back to Canada, we have to get on the train right after the Contest ends, a “red-eye”. There are no sleepers or couchettes, just seats. Actually, more like church pews: long hard wooden almost entirely uncomfy mini-purgatories. We find our places, wedge in with the rest and try to nod off....
...I awaken later, and findquerrelle is gone. So I start wandering through the other cars, all of which are just like ours, all of which are teaming with occupants, most of whom are Maltese living in the UK. I figure he’s in the Food Car, because what on earth else could there be on this awful train that might interest querrelle? I walk through car after car, but no food car. And no querrelle. I remember thinking “I wonder if this whole Eurovision trip has just been too much and he’s finally decided....”
And then I wake up.
querrelle made me tell you. Flame him]I rarely remember my dreams; I’m a coma sleeper. It can be at times difficult to get to sleep, but once I’m in REMs I’m out of it. You make think I’m terribly deprived, but the few dreams from my childhood I recall are almost all nightmares. I’ll stick with brain dead, tanks very much.
But on to the dream...
It turns out that there were major irregularities in the televote for this year’s Eurovision--and Malta won after all. Now the Maltese are by far the most Eurovision enthusiastic country in Europe. Their best performers slug it out year after year to represent their wee island; as a result they’re almost always top 10. They probably partied in the streets for like 6 months and put our Chiara up for sainthood with the Vatican (Malta’s very Catlick).
And then we’re a year ahead, and the Contest just ended in Valletta. No I don’t know who won, and now I can’t tell you if the Maltese did a fine job hosting or not. But what I can tell is that I cajoled
querrelle to come along with me. Unfortunately we couldn’t get a seat on the gazillion flights between London and Valletta on Air Malta--so we took the train London-Valletta.For the geographically challenged, the UK is not attached to the rest of Europe; ditto for Malta. So the train went through the Chunnel™, through France, to Marseille, where they loaded the whole damned thing onto a ferry. And we were on the Maltese Railway. And no, I don’t think one can even do this in the real world. It’s a frickin’ dream, get over it.
To get back to the UK for our flight back to Canada, we have to get on the train right after the Contest ends, a “red-eye”. There are no sleepers or couchettes, just seats. Actually, more like church pews: long hard wooden almost entirely uncomfy mini-purgatories. We find our places, wedge in with the rest and try to nod off....
...I awaken later, and find
querrelle is gone. So I start wandering through the other cars, all of which are just like ours, all of which are teaming with occupants, most of whom are Maltese living in the UK. I figure he’s in the Food Car, because what on earth else could there be on this awful train that might interest querrelle? I walk through car after car, but no food car. And no querrelle. I remember thinking “I wonder if this whole Eurovision trip has just been too much and he’s finally decided....”And then I wake up.
