I just awoke from the most bizarre dream and must write it down.

It was presented as a movie. We open on some sort of posh school in the 1950’s. We see a janitor, played by George Clooney. Hay is scattered about the room. He attempts to clean it with a broom, but is overzealous and spreads the hay about just as much.

Unhappy with manual labour, the janitor decides to build a machine to do the cleaning for him. He starts looking around the school, scavenging parts.

(Click below to read on…)

At this point I come into the movie. I am played by Colin Mochrie. (I remembered his face from the dream. But I didn’t know his name until now, after some Googling.)

I wonder what the janitor is doing and this kicks off a massive musical sequence where the janitor sings about the wonders of books and literature. This is because he has been looking at books to guide him with the cleaning machine. The janitor appears to be quite learned at the arts and linguistics and his musical piece revolves around touching on subjects from books in those fields. Doesn’t make sense for a janitor, doesn’t make sense for someone wanting to make a machine, but a dream’s a dream.

During this musical piece we are whisked about the grounds of the school — which is starting to feel more like a university — and encounter various other people learned in arty things. We assemble quite a wacky gang all of whom are played by Hollywood actors. (Mostly, but not exclusively, men. Is my brain sexist or just accurate for the 1950s?)

Near the end of the musical piece, the janitor opens a book about something called “Plasmic Language”. On investigating it, he becomes quite enthusiastic about it. The whole gang is. But then they come across a simple summation equation in the text. None of them understand what it is.

Luckily for them, I do. I am so happy to finally be useful (everything prior has been about arty subjects I am no expert on) that I start a song where I combine English with the programming languages of my day job (this, apparently, is representitive of Plasmic Language). But my song is cut short. Everyone wants to follow this Plasmic Language thing through to the ultimate conclusion, and they want to start now.

Whatever we’re building, it’s big, it’s mechanical and it requires scholars of every field (especially arts for some reason). I never actually see the damned thing, possibly because during the duration of the dream we never leave the planning stage.

Cut to scenes of the gang of scholars working on the project. There’s more musical pieces, usually about the wonders of academia, usually involving dry dusty books. I am not doing any work myself but am wandering around observing and participating in these musical scenes.

At this time I need to use the toilet in real life. This manifests in my dreams. Slowly I am less interested in Project Plasmic Language and more interested in finding a toilet. There are none to be found.

My obsession with finding toilets causes me to miss several outings the group has to learn more about the project. I distinctly remember missing an outing to the beach, complete with 1950’s bathing attire, and janitor Clooney telling me in that upbeat manner of his that it was fun, I should’ve come, but there’s always next time.

Obviously physical needs grew too strong and I was brought out of my dream. The last thing I remember was trying to urinate into a fridge in the middle of the night while Brad Pitt burnt the midnight oil and talked to me about his role in the project.

Certainly an interesting dream. But why all American actors, brain? Why not Simon Baker or Sam Worthington as the janitor? My character could’ve been played by Geoffrey Rush. I think Shaun Micallef would’ve made for a much more hilarous fridge urination scene. How am I supposed to support Australian film and television when my subconscious just wants Hollywood. God forbid my next dream is directed by Michael Bay…