King Arthur was showing his son how to use a sword. He’d set up several cardboard walls with various colours and facts about their neighbouring kingdoms. Bless him. His son went around slashing each one with a sword, and Arthur was shaking his head saying, “no not that one! We don’t want to go to war with them!” or “no that was our Christmas event bulletin!”
Slightly to the right of all this commotion, someone I knew was having their birthday party. He was completely off his head, when someone came over to us and quietly mentioned that his brother had died. The birthday boy however, wasn’t in the mood to stop partying. He said something along the lines of, “I don’t care. I’m too high to care. It’s my birthday and he’s not going to ruin it.”
So he continued drinking, and we all tidied up after him. We didn’t want to ruin King Arthur’s lawn. I had the job of cheese gatherer; picking up all the grated cheese that littered the floor and putting it in the food waste bin.
I don’t know how many people pick up cheese in their dreams, but if you do I suggest we both seek some help!