Last night, I was entertained by an enthralling thriller, a road movie with good guys, bad guys, indeterminate sort-of-grey guys and, outside it all, the police (who stopped my car because I was carrying too many passengers). There was a bit of running around and rescuing people, too, but that bit’s gone rather hazy now. No doubt the plot – if I could remember it all – wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny, but it all seemed cohesive enough at the time, and it was a bit of an epic, too!
The reason I mention it – quite apart from the fact that it was one of those dreams that you want to return to in order to see what happens next – was that, right near the end, there was one of those moments that happen in dreams where you try to do something (in this case, I was trying to throw a bottle of chocolate milk at one of the indeterminate guys), but you just can’t do it. And the reason was quite clear; even in my dream, I had Parkinson’s. My arm wasn’t working properly. (The only worrying aspect was that neither arm worked properly in this dream. But I always was rubbish at throwing stuff anyhow.)
Apparently, violent or vivid dreams can be part of the symptom set of Parkinson’s, or a side effect of the medication. This dream wasn’t unduly violent, although it was vivid (not, I think, unusually so). I rather enjoyed it.
Anyway, here are the Electric Prunes, from whom I borrowed the post title: