We’ve all been having some very vivid and memorable dreams since moving to Luanda. Last night for instance we were horse-sitting for a neighbour and had to go into their kitchen (where the horse was) every day to replenish its food and water. We then made a peremptory decision to go on holiday ourselves, and it was only as I turned the ignition in our case-laden car that I remembered old Dobbin in next door’s kitchen. I went in and moved him to a lock-up garage behind the houses. The rest of the dream is a bit hazy but I do remember at one point having to push-reverse a lifesize toy car made of gold-coloured plastic to a parking spot outside Dobbin’s garage.
I blame the Mefloquine antimalarial tablets we’re taking. I knew that vivid dreaming was one of the listed side-effects, but it’s one of the most benign if Mefloquine’s wikipedia entry is to be believed, so if you have to get one side-effect then I’d pick dreaming over all the others.
Our drug-induced dreams were the main topic of conversation in the car on the way to see Toy Story 3 at Belas Shopping Centre the other night, and we all compared notes on whose dreams were the oddest. Abigail’s seemed mostly to revolve around school revolts.
After a very nice and not too expensive pizza and beer in the mall’s food court we went into the cinema and I ordered four (Abigail’s new friend Bethany was in tow) tickets to Toy Story 3. It took me a while and several “No entende”‘s before I finally understood the cashier’s warning that the movie had a Portuguese soundtrack rather than the more common English with Portuguese subtitles.
Time to pick an alternative, and the only choice that was a) in English, b) appropriately certificated, and c) starting within the next hour was Inception. I’d already seen it but the others hadn’t so we picked that one (when a movie is this good I have no problem seeing it again and again).
Afterwards we made our way back outside to Dino in the car, the girls making what-was-THAT-all-about? noises as we walked. Karen said that Toy Story 3 in Portuguese would’ve been easier to follow.
Inception is about dreaming, and dreams within dreams, so on the way home the subject of Mefloquine was revived. Perhaps Christopher Nolan had OD’d on it the night he came up with the idea? Perhaps if the four of us got a really big tablet and took a quarter each, we’d share the same dream that night? Luckily the return journey was quicker than the outbound so this nonsense didn’t get too out of hand.
Earlier that day we’d finally had our mosquito net hung over our bed, and this first night under a protective shroud gave me my best and deepest night’s sleep so far.
Or did it?
Perhaps I’m dreaming about writing another blog entry. Perhaps you’re dreaming about wasting time reading my ramblings?