Dreamtime

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This morning, I awoke from a series of interconnected dreams, punctuated by short periods of wakefulness to go to the loo or take a drink of water, or both; always returning to the next episode of the same dream. I finally awoke at around seven-fifteen with a fully-formed idea for what could be a belter of a game, or even a story: maybe both. Imagine if you will, a folded, multidimensional world of interiors and exteriors where either can be both, separately or congruently; fixed or randomly distributed: a Matryoshka doll whose innermost shell can at once be its outermost, contained itself by the depth of ink of a full-stop on a medieval manuscript, that is shelved within a library housed in a jewellery box. I got up from my bed, made tea, and started a notebook, writing several pages of thoughts already fleeting as my dream-state started to fade into the day. As this idea was literally and profoundly exposed in its entirety to me this morning, I'll continue to think profoundly on it whilst I decide just what to do with it; but do something with it I will.

Anyhow, after breakfast, I suggested we go for a walk in the Penrhyn Castle parkland and have lunch out after. We perambulated the grounds of the castle for an hour or so, had coffee, and headed to Menai Bridge where I'd earlier booked a table at Dylans. Jane had an excellent spicy sweet potato soup and skinny fries, and I had the Charity Pizza: Y Ddraig Goch [The Red Dragon, the doggy-bagged remains of which are pictured]; comprising a fine pizza base with their cracking pizza sauce [lovely sweet tomatoey goodness] topped with chorizo, pepperoni, chilli, spiced minced beef and Fior di Latte Mozarella. I know pizza purists [I was also one] will balk at such a combination, but believe me it's tasty and good, and chilli lovers [like me] will appreciate the hit of spice on the thing! Anyhow, part of the proceeds from the sale of them goes to charity, which is a nice touch. Dylans do an excellent Margherita if you must insist on purity. A nice lunch washed down by a pint of an IPA brewed down Pen Lleyn called Porth Neigwl; one of our favourite local holiday spots [blog posts passim].

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