‘Quick, catch one!’ Nelson screamed at me.
‘I can’t. They’re too fast,’ I told him, laughing.
I was dreaming that we were chasing three or four strange ducks around my mother’s house. It was a hilarious and comical situation and a lovely dream. I actually woke myself up at one point by laughing out loud, which is a wonderful experience that I would recommend to anyone.
The ducks that we were trying to grab hold of were very odd indeed. They were snowy white and had very long legs. They also had the yellowiest beaks I have ever seen and bright-blue eyes like those of a human baby. Nelson seemed to be an authority on the breed.
‘Why are they so bloody quick, Nel?’ I asked him.
‘It’s their pedigree,’ he replied, out of breath.
‘Eh?’
‘They’re called Princess Diana Ducks. They’re highly intelligent. They hold the land speed record over five miles – for a semi-domesticated flightless bird, that is.’
‘Ducks aren’t flightless’, I said, confused.
‘These are,’ he said ‘They’re Diana Ducks.’
We did not manage to catch one single Diana Duck and I have absolutely no idea why we were trying to do so.
‘Anyway, why do they call them that?’ I wanted to know.
‘Princess Di. She invented them,’ he told me. ‘We British invent a lot of things, don’t you know. Like hats and irony and the atom.’
‘And ducks,’ I said.
‘That’s right.’
Once again, I have not the faintest idea what Freudian meanings may be buried deep within my dream but I can tell you this: I haven’t laughed so much in ages – asleep or awake.
{ 2 comments }