Betting Slips, Squatters and That Fluffy Thing From The Neverending Story

Dreams are the touchstones of our character - Henry David Thoreau 

Oh bollocks!  Not sure what last nights dream says about my character or mental stability...

Here goes.

I got home late from a meeting to find my iPod playing AHA (nothing unusual really as my iPod and radio tend to switch themselves on quite regularly.  I also often leave Magic FM playing to put off burglars)...

...anyway, I got home and I didn't have a bath as normal because the bathroom was out of action because an ill black horse was standing in the bath with the shower curtain pulled around it so you could only see its bum.  There were some fairy lights around the top of the shower curtain but other than that the room was dark.  

The horse had been in my bathroom for about the last 6 months and although alive, just stood perfectly still, not eating, drinking or pooing.  It was being hidden in my flat because it was storing winning betting slips in its mouth and stomach and we weren't to let the 'mob' find out.

I kept asking people about the well-being of the horse but had been assured that it was drugged and sedated and was perfectly happy.

I checked the horse was breathing by listening at the door and went to bed.

I woke up a few minutes later to see 2 blokes in my kitchen walking around with coffee cups.  I thought it was weird but assumed they were workmen who had just let themselves in and I went back to sleep.

I woke up properly (properly in my dream!) 10 minutes later and went into the living room to find the place trashed, all the windows open and 4 goth squatters camping out.  They were all smoking which made me go off on one.  I asked them what the hell they were doing in my flat and they said "it's your turn to have us for the night".  This was a perfectly logical answer.  I told them that they should just help themselves to drinks and snacks but under no circumstances were they to touch or speak to the horse in the bathroom.  

As the goths were leaving, I noticed that they had trashed the spare room so I made them tidy it before they left and put the mattresses back on the correct beds.  I also made them spray febreeze cos of the fags they'd been smoking.

As they were leaving, I peeked into the bathroom and saw that they had actually been in there, despite all my warnings.  There was toothpaste and wet towels everywhere.  I was raging but they were all running down the stairs laughing.

I went into the bathroom to clean up for the horse and I poked it in by the tail to see if it was actually alive.  The poke made it do that Black Beauty thing and go up on its back legs and make horsey noises.  It jumped out of the bath and then proceeded to vomit up the winning betting slips in my hall.

The paper vomit amounted to around £44million of uncashed slips, lottery tickets and bonds (I don't even know what a bond is).  I was quite excited, but was more concerned that the horse was talking to me and telling my how ill hanging onto the slips had made him.  He was covered in slime and then turned into the fluffy white dragon/camel/horse thing from The Neverending Story (theme song by Limahl) and proceeded to crash out in the hall.

I sat in the hall cuddling the horse thing for ages, then it went off out for a run to get used to not being a horse anymore.  I started cleaning up the flat after the squatting goths.

The horse thing came back and became my new pet.  I told my mum about the winning slips and she said I was to leave them for her to sort out because she knew a woman who worked in Woolworths who would be able to cash them for me.

Dear god, what does it all mean?