Yesterday morning began with a series of gifts.
The first was abruptly waking from a dream that involved me being forced to sacrifice my maidenhead to a man who was supposed to be K’s father. Except that I’ve never met K’s father (on account of him being decidedly dead) and the man in my dream harboured a disturbing likeness to actor, Kevin Spacey. K’s father, deceased or otherwise, never resembled Spacey. Or, so I am told.
As is typical of my dreams, they tend to be garbled and follow a somewhat disjointed narrative. Part of the narrative involved me walking into a small, mirrored, cubicle-like bathroom in order to prepare myself for the undead-Spacey-like-K’s-dad man. I washed and then sat on the toilet.
At my head height, protruding from the walls behind me and reaching around in front of me was a chrome, armed apparatus brandishing a Straight razor. Which, I assumed was a form of automated shaving device that saved you time, should you be inclined to multi-task whilst on the lav.
As I leaned forward to get up, I intercepted the blade with my throat. I felt no pain, only warm dribbling heat as blood escaped vital arteries and traced valleys down my neck. I gingerly removed the blade and made a point of checking my reflection to see if I had indeed sliced my throat (I had). It occurred to me at this point that I should perhaps think about getting help and as I opened my mouth to speak, air escaped in place of words, rasping bubbles from the incision instead of reaching my lips. I staggered naked to the door and then, woke up.
The gift here was not the dream itself, rather the awakening from it, throat intact.
The second gift was one to myself. This T-Shirt from <a href=“http://claire.nu/2006/12/11/the-bit-where-i-saw-placebo-again/” title=“PAST POST: ‘The Bit Where I Saw Placebo… Again…’>December’s Placebo gig arrived (I no longer buy from venues, instead I wait until merchandise is available officially online).
The third, consisted of these:
You see what those are? They are Little Green Parcels of Joy courtesy of the illustrious Sam of ProblemChildBride fame.
I’ve been good and they’ve remained unopened, I’m determined to save them for the day.
I think I liked these gifts the best. Yes, definitely. Why? Well, I don’t know, little green parcels just seem so much nicer than having your throat cut.
A full-time wheelchair user since 1998, Claire lives in an adapted bungalow in England with her Partner of 10 years and their two dogs: 
See, you confused me there. I read that thinking, oh shit, I missed her birthday?! I thought it was at the beginning of Feb? I only stopped hyperventilating when I got to the bottom.
V xx
p.s. Your dream made me gag. Seriously. UGH!
p.p.s. I was talking about the Kevin Spacey thing, obviously …
and I thought *I* had odd dreams at times..:lol:
A little less cheese, and a bit more hot chocolate before bed might be an idea…?:lol:
Vixx:
Me too
Twas hideous, I couldn’t stop thinking about it afterwards 
Karl:
Definitely!
This is what I would call a VIVID dream. I don’t ever remember anything I dream, ever. Where do these things come from? Where on earth did you dream up the actual mechanics of on-toilet shaving apparatus? OK, I realise that this was really not the most disturbing part of the dream, but it is still weird, none the less.
Rich:
Have you seen that early 90s Children’s film Casper (as in, the friendly ghost) with a very young Christina Ricci? In the movie, Casper’s father was an inventor who had a shaving device of a similar nature, though his involved a chair on a track that descended a staircase. As the chair descended, it passed through a series of automated “arms”, one set cleaned his teeth, another set brushed his hair and one set waved around straight blade razors to shave his face. I can only assume my subconscious based it on my memory of the film.
EDIT: Here is a screenshot of Ricci’s character going through the invention and it trying to brush her teeth, here’s another screenshot of her ducking to avoid the razors.
Is this a children’s film? I have never seen it but these stills look mean. I seriously don’t remember my dreams — hardly ever at all and even then they are vague immpressions not in any way coherant, even weirdly coherant. I can’t imagine getting an image like that so detailed.