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vendredi 22 juillet 2011


I know there are few things more tedious than having to listen to someone banging on about the amazing dream they had the night before.

I know that.

But I'm going to do it anyway, because it's so rare that I actually remember anything at all (nowadays - I used to have vivid and unbelievably memorable dreams when I was younger). Plus, it's short, rather odd and quite funny. Oh, and it wasn't wholly disagreeable, either.

Last night I dreamt that this man

(taken from

and I were in bed together. And it felt really, really nice. It felt right, normal and just... mmmmmm. You know?

Even more weird was the fact that it wasn't this man as he was in the picture above (yummy as he was), but as he actually is now (obviously much older, but still not without a certain charm):
Lloyd Cole

(taken from

If you have no idea who this is, let me enlighten you: it's the amazing Lloyd Cole, one of the pin-ups of my youth and the genius behind such marvels as Lost Weekend, Perfect Skin, Are you ready to be heartbroken? and many, many more.

Oh, how I have listened to the album Rattlesnakes! I know all the songs by heart and I just adore his voice, his simplicity, his openness, his normalness (I know, that's not a word. So bite me).

I have no idea why I dreamed I was in bed with him (and why it seemed such a natural turn of events). I haven't even listened to my CDs of his recently (yes, I still listen to CDs because I don't have an iPod or anything even remotely resembling one). Though I might have to tonight...

I do remember being devastated that my abject poverty prevented me from going to see him in concert in Lyon back in 1993 (depressingly, I am currently just as abjectly poor and incapable of contemplating a concert ticket, but at least Lloyd Cole isn't touring here right now so I don't think I'm missing much of anything at that level).

Dreams are strange. I can understand that I would dream about being in bed with a man: at best, right now I share my bed with my cat and, until the girls get back, two of the soft toys they left behind (Eeyore and a stuffed cat). And there hasn't been a man there (a real, live man) since April 2010 (holy shit). So yeah, a dream about a man, for sure.

But Lloyd Cole? Why? I mean, I'm not complaining - he would do very nicely, in fact. But it is rather strange.

The only downer in this whole thing (apart from the obvious fact that IT DIDN'T ACTUALLY HAPPEN FOR REAL) is that I woke up before anything truly interesting happened. We were just lying there, staring at each other with desire, about to make that all-important first move and BAM! I woke up.


(Oh, and Lloyd, if you ever read this? You'll always be welcome round here! Just call me!)

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