Here’s a strange, midday nap dream narrative for you.
I pop across the street during my lunchbreak to the British Museum where I run into Christoph Waltz, who is apparently my sexy German language professor also starring in a musical called Schadenfreude!, for which there are 2-color, 60s-style adverts everywhere. On my way back to work, I am abducted by the Voldemort resistance, who take me back to my old high school, which the Death Eaters have bombed with fireworks. After refusing to accept the Dark Mark, our car is sent careening down a pit a là the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland, and we have to the escape the Temple of Doom while singing and dancing a choreographed Broadway number.
So, dream analysts, what does that mean?
Oh, I’m not sure anything but Photoshop can convey the sheer hilarity of the 60s-style adverts. To illustrate, I have whipped something up while I procrastinate from work. Now imagine these plastered all over Tube stations and hung as giant 300 foot banners of a Tate Modern-esque building meant to stand in for the British Museum in my subconscious.
Yeah.
Also, I don’t know why my dream was taking place in London when I haven’t lived there in almost six years. It also looked nothing like the London I know.
And now back to writing the Most Epic Editorial Letter Ever.
