Strange dreams triggered by Shakespeare

 

We all have dreams from time to time. Some are dramatic and perhaps disturbing, whilst others are easily forgotten or not remembered at all when we wake up.

I dreamt about Shakespeare last night. I never liked Shakespeare's plays. There isn't a car chase in any of them. In my dream, the old Bard was eating a KFC. 

"What's in a name?" he said, 

"That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet...

But this KFC unpronounceable as it be

Would taste as sweet as an artichoke dipped in honey!"

I then woke up and continued eating the chicken leg I had in my pocket.

Have you ever dreamt that you were a chicken wearing a pin striped suit to work and they would not let you in because your tie was the wrong colour?

Or dreamt that you went to see a hypnotist to cure you of the compulsion to visit hypnotists?

Whilst at the hypnotist you asked him also to cure you of your fear of heights? He did so; and when you woke up you were on top of the cupboard?

And why when it is in the kitchen it is called a cupboard, and in the bedroom it is a wardrobe? Is it because, as the Bard said, a rose by any other name is still a cupboard? Or a wardrobe? If so, why not call the cupboard a rose?

No? Never had such dreams?

Well, neither have I.

My dreams tend to be memorable. Last week I dreamt that I was in a marshmallow factory, a bit like in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory book by Roald Dahl.

Anyway ... I dreamt I was in a marshmallow factory and when I woke up I'd eaten the pillow.

I remember being told off in the morning for ruining the pillow!

The best dreams of course are those that inspire us to greater things. They can be dreams we have when asleep or indeed something we think about when awake and mull over in our minds and spur us into action.

Many a great idea started with a day dream, an inspiration, a word of encouragement ...

The ideal dream is to make life better for someone else. It need not necessarily be a big thing that you do. Perhaps a kindness to someone. A smile. A helping hand.

For when our time is at an end, we should not be remembered for who we have been, but for what we have done. 

 

Face to face with Caesar

When I write humourous articles here, and elsewhere, the intention is to amuse people, you, my readers, whom I cherish and appreciate for your support and encouragement. It is not my intention to upset or offend anyone. If I have done so inadvertently; I apologise.

In our town there is a pedestrianised street to allow people to shop and sight-see away from any vehicles and cycles. The area, a street about a mile long, is blocked at both ends by bollards to stop any vehicles from entering.

I was there the other day and noticed that they had erected a small stage in the middle of the wide street and a few amateur dramatic actors were performing Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra; or bits of it, as an advert for their performance at the theatre nearby.

A small crowd had gathered to watch and I joined them.

The man playing Octavius Caesar recognised me. To be fair, I'd recognised him too, although not by name. I'd seen him a few times in the library lecturing about Shakespeare and he's been in the newspapers often about his various roles as a Shakespearean amateur dramatics actor. We never actually met or spoke but somehow he seemed to recognise me more than I was aware of.

He got off the stage and started shouting at me: "You're the man who keeps writing those silly Shakespearian stories full of inaccuracies!"

I said nothing. The crowd was astounded. He came towards me and continued.

"You confuse people with all your stories, and lesser learned people will believe all the nonsense that you write. History is history and it should be related accurately. You tend to humourise the whole thing with your articles."

I slowly backed off trying to walk away. He followed me and continued as the crowd looked on. They probably thought it was all part of the acting.

"We take great care when we perform our Shakespearean plays," he declared, "the narrative as well as the costumes are very accurate and authentic. This toga I am wearing is authentic and made exactly as the Roman emperors would have worn it. Yet you spoil it all with all your silly history lessons and your jokes. You're a disgrace to historians everywhere!"

I smiled feebly, almost apologetically, and said nothing. The crowd grew interested and kept watching. Octavius Caesar was furious.

"What steps are you going to take to remedy the situation?" he asked.

"Large ones away from you," I thought but did not utter a word.

I started to walk away hurriedly. He followed me still ranting and raving. I walked a bit faster. So did he. I began to trot, or was it a gallop? He continued after me faster. Some of the crowd followed still thinking this was all part of the acting.

As I began to run, (or walk rather hurriedly), I noticed that he must have stepped on the edge of his toga which was made of several bed sheets wrapped together around him. Somehow they all became undone and fell to the ground like dried leaves off trees in Autumn, revealing that he was wearing absolutely nothing else underneath. Really Roman authentic!

Is that really how the Romans dressed? Wrapped in a few sheets with no underwear underneath?

Anyway, there was Caesar with absolutely nothing on. Naked as the day he was born. The Roman Emperor had no clothes.

As he bent down naked to gather bits of torn sheets from the ground he was joined by Cleopatra who helped cover his Roman Empire with her hands.

At this point the crowd applauded in unison, no doubt still believing this was all part of the act.

I learnt from the newspapers later that the performance at the theatre was totally sold-out within minutes. Perhaps people had enjoyed our little advert and believed that it was a taster of what the show was like.

Did Shakespeare wrote it this way?

To Blog or not to Blog
That is the question.
Whether it is nobler in the mind
To keep one’s thoughts to oneself
Than reveal them to all
On screens large and small.
And by doing such
Suffer the slings and arrows
Of outrageous readers
Who’d rather Block you
Than read your feeble Tweeters.
Or to bravely face your qualms
And courageously Blog on
Regardless of your audience
Be it great or be it small;
Just Blog on into eternity
And have yourself a ball!

HA !!! SHAKESPEARE WILL NEVER BE AS GOOD AS ME !!!

Unmasking A Truth

BONZO BOOKSHELF

They say that an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters might be able to write the complete works of William Shakespeare.

What nonsense. And who are "they" who often pronounce these and other words of wisdom which, in the best part, are meaningless?

Words like, "An apple a day keeps the doctor away." More nonsense. If you want to keep people away try garlic. Try it for a week or so and it should prove grounds for divorce.

Or, "Take one day at a time." Even more nonsense. Personally I would like to take a whole week at a time, but I can't. Because I don't control time. The days come one by one. And anyway, I never leave for tomorrow what can be left for the day after that; or for ever.

What is the point of mowing the lawn if it will grow again anyway? Or painting that damn fence and garden gate? I've been told about it a million times and it still has not been painted. Has the world come to an end? Have the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse come riding by to proclaim that the world will end because I have not painted the gate and fence? No. So why I am being reminded of it daily? Does it really matter so much?

"They", (again), call all these sayings, and similar advisory stories "old wives tales". How unfair. How ageist. Why "old" wives? Why not young wives? Is it always old wives who say things like "if at first you don't succeed try and try again"? More nonsense. Personally, I think that if you don't succeed it is because you are not meant to. You are not up to it. Better give up and let someone better than you do it.

How many "do it yourself" jobs in the house have had to be put right by professional plumbers, carpenters, painters, and the like? Come to think of it, why doesn't a professional painter, Picasso perhaps come and paint the garden gate and fence; and whilst he's at it he can paint the bedroom ceiling which I am reminded of every time ... ... ...

Anyway, as I was saying about old wives tales, it is not always old people who say daft things. Have you been on social media lately and seen what young, and not so young, wives, and single people, write? On Facebook recently a friend of mine announced to the whole world that she had bought a pair of new shoes. I'm surprised you do not know about it. Was it not on your TV News? What is the point of going on Facebook, Twitter and all the other sites and announce stupid things that no one cares about?

In order to join this modern trend, I now walk the streets and every so often announce in a loud voice something meaningless and totally pointless. I do it on the train, the bus, anywhere. I say, "I will have my hair cut today ... we bought some roses to plant in the garden ... I like eating mayonnaise on toast ... " and so on. So far I have two followers in white coats and big butterfly nets.

Let's move on. As I was saying, I do not believe that if you put a lot of monkeys together they will write the works of Shakespeare. Not in a million years. They would not even write the works of Dante, Moliere, Victor Hugo or anyone else.

As a sideline, if I may, the other day I asked my Literary Agent, Bonzo Bookshelf, whether he thought one of these days my works would be as famous as Shakespeare's or Dante's or the other great writers. His reaction is captured in the photo above.

So, in order to prove the monkeys experiment, I put a number of pigeons in a room with a number of computer keyboards linked to computers in another room. I wanted to see whether at least one pigeon would peck at at least one key on any of the keyboards.

After hours of having several pigeons sitting on keyboards I had nothing to show for it other than a lot of keyboards covered with pigeon droppings ingrained in between the keys. They obviously wanted to make a more obvious public statement instead. So what hope have an infinite number of monkeys apart from even more crap on the keyboards?

BTW - You can click on Bonzo Bookshelf's name if you wish.

On Reflection ... What's The Point?

I was painting the house the other day. I've started with the living room and then I'll move on from one room to another. Then it occurred to me ... what's the point?

What's the point of painting these walls and ceilings when in a couple of years' time I'll do it all over again?

A painter expert told me that first I should scrape the old paint off, clean the walls properly, paint an under-coat, and then when it's dry paint another coat.

What nonsense. I just paint one cover over the other. Much quicker. Just splosh the new paint on to the old one. Over the years the walls have become thicker and thicker with one layer of paint over the other. I bet our house all round is now six inches smaller because of the many layers of paints on the walls and ceilings. Pretty soon the house will be so small that even the mice will have hunchbacks.

And that's what led me to think ... what's the point of it all?

What's the point of doing something over and again. Like painting the house. Mowing the lawn. Vacuum cleaning. Dusting. Washing plates and cups and cutlery. Washing clothes. It's all repetitive and leads to nowhere.

Come to think of it. What's the point of wearing clothes anyway? Some people I know have to buy clothes several times a year to keep in with changing fashions. Spring collection. Summer Collection. Autumn and Winter too. And on and on the fashion industry gets us to buy too many clothes we don't need.

What a different world it would be if we wore no clothes at all? Angels are often depicted with no clothes on. They don't seem to mind.

Do you realise how less pompous people would be if they all wore no clothes? These days people use their clothes to influence one another. Power dressing, that's what it is. A man would have the latest fashionable suit on; a woman would have padded shoulders to make her look bigger and more impressive; or the latest shoes or jewellery or fancy hat.

With no clothes on we'd all be equal. What would matter is what sort of person we are - kind, gentle, knowledgeable, helpful and so on.

Without clothes on my boss at work would be much kinder if we could all see her naughty bits. And I suppose we'd be much nicer too if she could see ours.

The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that there are many things in life with no point at all.

For example, what's the point of me writing books or blogs if I'm going to be ignored anyway? After all, there's only you and me reading this right now. And not everyone seems to comment in support or in disagreement anyway.

As my old school friend Willy Shakespeare put it:

To Blog or not to Blog
That is the question.
Whether it is nobler in the mind
To keep one’s thoughts to oneself
Than reveal them to all
On screens large and small.
And by doing such
Suffer the slings and arrows
Of outrageous readers
Who’d rather Block you
Than read your feeble Tweeters.
Or to bravely face your qualms
And courageously Blog on
Regardless of your audience
Be it great or be it small;
Just Blog on into eternity
And have yourself a ball!

So there you have it. Stop painting the house and wearing clothes. But keep Blogging.

History - Cleopatra and the Romans

Cleopatra was a beautiful Queen or Pharaoe of Egypt who ruled until around 30 BC. At the time the Roman Empire was large and strong and was ruled by Julius Caesar. She got to meet him and after a few dinners and coffee they became great friends. Enough said.

After Julius Caesar was assassinated in 44 BC the Roman Empire was ruled by three triumvirates, which means three rulers. These are different to the rulers you get in class or at home to measure things with and they are not made of wood or plastic.

These three rulers were strong generals and leaders of the Romans. They were Mark Antony, Lepidus and Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus the legal heir of Julius Caesar. This is heir like successor and has nothing to do with what grows on peoples' heads and on their bodies. It has nothing to do with rabbits running wild either.

Now there was a bald ruler in Mesopotamia who was distressed that although he was very rich he had no children to inherit. One day he cried out loud "Why is it that despite my riches I have no heir?" Someone bought him a wig which inherited the whole kingdom after his death. Eventually, the people got fed up being ruled by a wig so they deposed him (or it) and were ruled by a ruler instead - that's a real ruler, not one made of plastic or wood used for measuring things. But I've already said so, and you were not paying attention!

Back to Cleopatra and the three triumvirates - Mark Antony, Lepidus and Julius Caesar.

Although each of them ruled a part of the Empire in reality they were rivals and each wanted to be the top man ruling alone.

One day Caesar held a big party on his ship out at sea and had invited Mark Antony and Lepidus. As happens at parties, after a few vinos Mark Antony and Lepidus got rather drunk and no doubt started singing "O Sole Mio"; a well known Roman song at the time which was Number 1 in the POP music charts for weeks on end. This particular song had been made famous by a protégé of Julius Caesar, the singer Maximilius Tonsilitis the Fifth, also known as MTV.

Anyway, one of Caesar's helpers whispered in his ear: "Both of your rivals are drunk. If we were to throw them overboard by accident like, you'd be left to rule the Empire alone."

After cleaning his ear from the man's spit Caesar replied: "If you had done this without telling me, I would have rewarded you greatly afterwards. But now you told me, I cannot sanction such an act."

Which goes to show that opportunity spits in your ear every now and then; and if you fail to take it you just end up with the spit.

So from then on, Cleopatra sided with Mark Antony instead of the rightful heir Caesar.

Their first meeting was in Egypt when Cleopatra sailed down the Nile in her royal barge and Mark Antony was on the shore and was astounded by her great beauty. His knees trembled at the sight.

Antony's lieutenant Enobarbus, once described Cleopatra's charms by saying: "Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety. Other women cloy the appetites they feed, but she makes hungry where most she satisfies."

Which loosely translated means she's for ever young with no wrinkles except the one she sits on.

Historians believe that the reason Cleopatra had such smooth skin is because she bathed in asses milk. I tried doing the same to help my complexion but the supermarket did not have asses milk. They had buffalo milk, goat milk, chocolate and strawberry flavored milk; but they'd just ran out of asses milk. Try bathing in chocolate milkshake and see what happens!

Well, as I said, Mark Antony felt his knees tremble at the sight of Cleopatra and invited her out for coffee. One  thing led to another and enough said about that too. They had smiles on their faces for ever after.

One day after a heavy defeat in battle, Mark Antony committed suicide.

Cleopatra was so distraught by it all that she put an asp to her breast. An asp ... not an ass or a donkey which is altogether a different creature too heavy to lift to one's breast.

An asp is another word for snake. Why did the snake not bite her hand and waited until he was at her breast, we'll never know. Maybe it was an amourous snake with trembling knees too. Enough said once again.

And sadly, that's how Cleopatra died.

Years later Shakespeare wrote a play about it all and then a film was made with Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor. I had to study the Shakespeare version at school and memorise many lines; why I'll never know. They've never served me in life until now that I have to give these History Lessons.

Much Ado About Nothing

I have an Australian friend called Mel who told me once “We humans always over-complicate things. Life is made for Fosters and surfing! Simple as that.”

I agreed with the former sentiment as I sipped my amber nectar but I doubt you’ll ever find me out at sea standing on an old wooden board that came from a kitchen door.

I asked him on one occasion whether he was named after the Australian city of Melbourne.

“Nah mate,” he replied, “… Sydney. My name is Sydney. But there was another fella in my class at school named Sydney. There was also one called Ade … we called him Adelaide for short. Then they called me Mel.”

“After the city?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Nah … just Mel. Pure and simple. Just Mel.”

It makes sense I suppose; which by some circuitous route brings us to Shakespeare.

I had to attend a Shakespeare recital the other evening. Not a play as such, but some tedious professor of sorts standing on a stage and spouting for ages about the old bard. The audience consisted mainly of female Shakespeare enthusiasts accompanied by their bored husbands who had been dragged there under duress or some other enticement – like watching the football on TV!

Anyway, this tedious man went on explaining how and why Shakespeare started writing and became famous.

Personally, I don’t hold with the theory that Shakespeare wrote all these plays and sonnets. I think it was Francis Bacon. And I base my theory on the fact that I fancied a bacon sandwich at the time instead of listening to this tedious professor.

He went on to explain what Shakespeare meant when he said certain things in his plays, and what do various characters represent.

I mean … what does it matter? Why not just enjoy the plays instead of guessing what the author had in mind when he wrote it? He was probably just writing to earn a living, very much as authors, playwrights and film-makers do these days.

At one point the tedious professor asked his audience why Cleopatra in the play of that name put an asp to her bosoms.

I leant sideways and whispered “I didn’t know she put a donkey to her breast. Why did she do this?”

I got one of those stares that meant “I’ll sort you out later!”

The evening went on thus without even a break for a pint or three. I tried my best not to nod off and was rewarded at the end with tea and biscuits.

What a let down … not a Fosters in sight!

Which brings me back again to Mel. He was right … we humans tend to over-complicate things instead of making life pure and simple.

“Love one another. As I have loved you.” John 13:34