I had pain meds when I went to bed last night, and I dreamed I was on the Holyhead to Dublin ferry with Cillian Murphy, Andrew Strong, and an old school friend I haven't seen since 2002. Andrew was singing Mustang Sally at the top of his amazing lungs on the deck, in the middle of the Irish Sea - that was rough as fuck - and my school friend was seasick.
I remember I was searching for Cillian, and he was in the bar with a half-pint of Guinness. He was talking the ear off some overly made up woman who looked like she was from the 1910s. I tapped him on the shoulder and asked what they were discussing. He turned to me and, because it was a dream, the woman just vanished into thin air and he then started soliloquising 😅. I get the full, detailed version of some mad novel (I wish I remembered because I was invested. I could have written a best seller!).
And then the sea got really, really rough and Cillian was like "I'm gonna spill my fucking drink." And set it on the bar, and it skidded down the bar and then he looked at me, and was laughing his head off - that really adorable laugh he does when he has his tongue sort of between his teeth, like this...
And then I woke up.
I didn't even get a fucking dream shag or grope, or nothing! 🤣
Although it has reminded me that Andrew Strong existed so I need to listen to The Commitments album.
