Father Postcard...

Right. I had lots of weird dreams last night, and I remember them with unusual clarity. It was a set of three dreams, the most interesting of which I'm going to write about now. It's got depth, it's got drama, secrets, lies, religious questioning, it's got it all - I dreamt I married Colin Farrell. The wedding was to take place in the church closest to where my parents live. Especially for this occasion it had been transformed into a Catholic church. In my dream, this meant that everything was cleared out of the church and replaced by white fabric, a few scarlet red cushions for me and mr Farrell to kneel down onto during the service, and the seating arrangements where somehow located to just outside the church. Me and mr Farrell where walking from the altar to outside, through the gathering of people, so that we'd sort of reach starting point to walk back in and get married. This dream was in English, which isn't in itself unusual, but I did speak with an Irish accent, which is just plain stupid 'cause, well, basically I don't normally and not that I've tried but I don't think I could pull it off to save my life. Funny thing was, Colin Farrell in my dream was really really shy. He was sort of almost shorter than me (which I guess could be true, because I'm pretty tall), and seemed scared by it all. Also I got the sense that he married me as some sort of cover-up. As we were walking away from the altar, I asked him about the Catholic priest that we'd replaced the Lutheran one with, and he went "oh, yeah, that's father Postcard". To which I replied, Irish accent intact; "Father Postcard?!?". He told me to be quiet so we could get on with it. After the service, which I don't actually remember much of, we stood on a mountain, looking out over Greece. Pretty weird. But nice at the same time. When I read my morning newpaper this morning, there was a huge picture of Colin Farrell on the front page and an articel about the Pocahontas film. Weird.