Saturday, 24 July 2010

New-Age Psychic Clap-Trap

The night before last, I had a dream about an acquaintance that I have not seen for at least a year and a half.

I was in Alistair's office, and heard noises out on the street below. I hung my head out of the window and saw Sylvester on the opposite pavement. He looked upset, so I shouted down to him, asking if he was alright. He looked up, said he was fine, just a bit wasted, and promptly sat down on the kerb with his head in his hands, muttering. Then he was on his feet again, bleating something about being immortal, I called for Alistair, but it was too late. He stepped in front of a car.

Alistair and I ran out onto the street. Alistair told me not to worry, that I must be mistaken, that Sylvester would not do something like that. Then we noticed his body that had rebounded off the car and into the gutter on the other side of the road. We ran over to him. He lifted his head, a bit battered and shaken up, but otherwise fine.

As soon as I woke up, I told Alistair about the dream, and said I was oddly concerned. Exacerbated by the fact that half the degree is in Philosophy, and I consider myself to rational, and moreover, an atheist. I don't do new-agey-psychic-phoneline-crap. And yet, weird shit always seems to happen to me.

Oh, it does.

I went out shopping. When I returned, Alistair waited until I had sat down, and said,

"Now, I don't want you to panic..."

Of course, this is the fastest way to ensure someone panics, and I did. Especially as by now I had forgotten about the strange dream.

"I have just been on the phone to Mistress Max, and she said something very strange..."

My mind immediately started concocting the very weirdest, and very worst things I could imagine,

"She's in love with you and wants to be with you?" I said. (Of course, this is the worst thing by far that could ever happen in the history oof the universe).

"No," said Alistair.

"I need a moment!" I bent double, breathed, and tried not to sick up my poor little racing heart. If you have ever watched Frasier and seen Niles have a panic attack...

Sometimes I am an anxious person. "She is pregnant with your child?" I asked,

"We've never had sex!"

"Well, you said it was really weird!" I said.

"I just got off the phone with her, and Sylvester has gone missing." My jaw flopped open, and I just stared at him in disbelief. Then I laughed a little bit in that nervous way people sometimes do. "He was meant to meet her to go to The Secret Garden Festival, she contacted him in the morning to ask why he was late. He said he was waiting for his friend to arrive with his tent. That was the last she heard from him."

The whole day and evening passed, with still no sight nor sound of Sylvester. Eventually, after I finished a session in the school-room, we decided we had better drive across London to his flat. When we arrived, the lights were off. He has two cats, so I was also concerned for their welfare. I bent down and peered into the letter-box.

"Syyyyl-veeees-teeeeeeer?" I yelled. Nothing stirred from within. We tried calling again and again. We questioned his neighbour and the neighbour's fat poodle. They had not seen him for a couple of days. I was beginning to get very worried. He had been really looking forwards to the festival, and this was not like him.
Eventually, we went home, indulging in a dirty little secret of ours along the way. In polite company, Alistair waxes lyrical about the disgustingness of McDonalds, and is known for ever-so-slight food snobbery. Will that be a gourmet quarter-pounder with cheese for you, sir?" Nothing was heard of Sylvester until late afternoon the next day.
As it turned out, he had been his flat all along. He hadn't wanted to see anyone, as he was licking proverbial wounds. On his way to the station to meet Mistress Max for the Secret Garden Party, he had been stopped and searched by the police. Unfortunately, they found certain illegal substances on him, and he was arrested and charged. What makes my blood boil is that, as well as calling all the hospitals to enquire about latest admissions, we also called police stations. We called the very one he had been taken into. They claimed that there was no record of our friend having been taken in. Moreover, it turns out that they also denied him his phone-call.

Very fucking dodgy stuff.


  1. Seems the police are the same the world over!

  2. Yup, the only good ones I know are on the fetish scene, and have to be careful to keep their antics secret.


You kiss your mother with that mouth?