I have just found out that my darling girl woke up in the dark two nights ago, drenched in tears and convinced that I was dead.
In her dream, she went to H.I. and confided in her sorrow, but all H.I. did was to say that everything was 'alright'.
"NO IT ISN'T!" wept my girl.
A smile spread across my face when I heard this tale tonight. So she does love me after all, I selfishly thought to myself.
Starting around 1970, I took every mind-altering drug that I could lay my hands on, and by 1972, I was taking full-strength, imported American LSD at least once a week, and smoking extremely large quantities of hashish in every available moment in between trips. This lasted for at least two, more like three years.
Then, one night, I was being followed by a man who had already gone right over the edge and it was patently clear to me that I must rid myself of his presence, so I strode up a very steep hill toward the Medieval convent that was my first home in Bath.
He began to run out of breath and begged me to slow down, but I strode on upwards. I knew I had to rid myself of this man, and all he represented.
Then - in the darkness - I saw a line across the road which was not visible to him, and I took one step over it and waited for him to catch up. I knew he would not - could not - not step over this barrier between one world and the next.
He begged me to come back down - just one step over the line - but I smiled and refused. I stood about three feet away from him, knowing that he would turn around and go back down again, leaving me alone forever. This is what he did.
After a short period of reasonably extreme madness lasting about a year, I was back to normal - if you could ever call me that.
Poor old Sid Barrett never saw that line, or recognised the safety to be found on the other side of it.
Now I am growing old and an 18 year-old girl loves me so much that she has nightmares about my premature death.
What more could I ask for?
Yes, but Syd had an unbelievably beautiful girlfriend who wandered around the house NAKED. I never complained!
ReplyDeleteCromwell Road? It was a radio documentary on Sid that sparked off this post, and in it, the rest of Pink Floyd blamed his flatmates for dragging him down hill...
DeleteOne of her 18 year old friends?
ReplyDeleteOoooo Chris.....you naughty, naughty boy.
DeleteMr Stephenson will be very cross with you and take a point away. I have decided to be very, very co operative!
Now your talking, Chris. That would have inspired a renewed lust for life back then, but now it simply exacerbates my almost permanent fantasy state of mind.
DeleteHow cooperative, Jacqueline? Got any 18 year-old daughters? Grand daughters?
Daughter of 31 is too old for you and grandchildren, too tiny.....If you put a paper bag over my head ( but not an orange in my mouth ) I could dress up as a sixth former.
DeleteI used my last paper bag on a real sixth former. I'm considerate that way.
DeleteI ought to add that I put it over my own head.
DeleteI think it is very touching that she loves you so much and I wish her much more pleasant dreams.
ReplyDeleteSo do I, Raz, but my pleasant dreams would be inappropriate in her case.
DeleteI NEVER fail to be entertained by your posts,...AND the comments Tom! This one is no exception but I am not adept enough to add to the repertoire of clever replies...I only giggle and shake my head.
ReplyDeleteSweet that your daughter loves you so much and that she tells you about her dreams. Good that you got off all that junk in your youth and ended up OK. It had to be a scary crossroads when facing your nemesis. Still shaking my head.....
Yes, it was all very 'Harry Potter', but without the humour.
DeleteI often think of my classmates and some of the things we did. It's a wonder we didn't all go round the bend, never to return.
ReplyDeleteGlad you know your daughter loves you.
Grand daughter, actually. Because of the stories like the above, she knows that I know what I am talking about when I advise her about stuff like that, and takes notice of me.
Delete