Mares

Last night I had disturbing dreams. A friend I've known from the age of five was so deeply upset with me that he resorted to abuse and harrassment. This was not all. There was plenty more besides. But the morning rush and the extra-experiential nature of dreams conspire to fuzz-up the memory. Quite apart from the slight stomach upset of the weekends festivities - which I'm happy to report were considerable - related issues were also on my mind. The dynamics of friendship are not only complex. They are ever-changing.

It's interesting how one person or image can take the place of another or a number of others in a dream. The actions of the friend in this dream were not his. They were another's, but still I have been concerned over the last week that we had an unnecessary and needlessly exaggerated difference of opinion very late one night and I don't want him to resent it. Perhaps there was little call for that particular tangent but there won't be any harm done. After eighteen years of friendship I perhaps shouldn't be too concerned but naturally contientiousness cannot but be an ingredient in any such long-lasting association.

Quasi-Mojo doesn't believe in 'freindship' - only in 'friends'. Well, more accurately, he says he doesn't know what it means or involves. I think an exact quote would be: "Horse, it's about rules. The thing about it is that everyone makes up their own rules. You've got two things rampant in the consensus: you got bad rules, and you got people changing and breaking their own rules. Keep it simple. With me, what you see is what you get: my friendship is long and hairy and it flaps about. It fluctuates with my mood - I use it for love, but then again it might just pee on you - and everyone knows what they're likely to get from it. With me there is no friendship - there's the people whose bits you can see to be worth paying attention to and who don't mind looking at yours, and then there's everyone else." At this point, he stroked his friendship reassuringly and as he turned away gave me a funny look and said, "Why d'you think I call you horse?"

I've always been impressed when Q-M decides to venture a metaphor - but often rather than make a concept clearer, it just gets hazier, and most often that's actually the point. Somehow I derive some reassurance nonetheless - and if nothing else he makes me laugh.

In a more inexplicable dream, I went back to the Artane Boys Band to look around. The experience made me cry uncontrolably (if there is any other kind). And that one I really don't understand.