Has anyone else had a strange dream about Robert Dyas recently? Like… it’s a TV ad or something and all these Robert Dyas employees are holding up products and stating their sexuality. A man called Marcus who “likes volleyball” announces that he’s gay, then twists an inflatable Minion so its one eye is facing you, impishly, while you chew on this astonishing little jumble of non sequiturs like a wad of radiator and salt flavour chewing gum.
“We’re all mad here,” the minion seems to say, tauntingly, as you grapple with what Freud referred to in The Interpretation of Dreams as the “navel” of a dream; an “unplumbable” core, so detached from reality that it simply cannot be understood. Except, maybe it isn’t a dream. In fact, here it is; the ad for a chain of DIY shops, which makes Dalí and Buñel’s Un Chien Andalou look like an especially unthreatening episode of Peppa Pig. While writing this, I’m periodically flicking my nose to make sure I’m awake. I have been having vivid dreams since I switched to a new antidepressant. Incidentally, I recently had one in which an archangel appeared to me and announced that Justin Bieber is going to come out as gay, and it’s going to break Twitter. So, consider yourself warned.
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