Scanning back through the collection of dreams I have quiet a few with big “cheeses” in, people of historical and cultural import. To my knowledge I have never met any of them on the physical plane. The trajectory of my life turned away from any which might have led me to even come close to contacting them.

My claim to fame is that I once worked in a pub now owned by Rita Ora’s dad. I have met en passant a number of science Nobel laureates and I knew two people who were presidents of learned societies. But that is about as far as it goes. My uncle got an MBE from miliary intelligence during the Malay insurgency, a fact which impressed my housemaster at prep school. He told me Colonel Rees was coming to see me; I had no idea that this was my dad’s half-brother. I did not recognise the surname. I got quizzed by army wives at his funeral, only now do I sense that they may have had intelligence roles too.

There is no readily explainable reason for why I get these “famous” geezers in my dreams when examined from my life circumstance here in the compound. Stretching things past the elastic limit there is a near vanishing possibility that I am under surveillance, given dream content. For some reason that is connected.

There was once, perhaps, a very small possibility that my life could have had wider physical plane significance. So, there may be tiny faint residues of that trajectory left in the web of life. A path not taken leaving an ethereal track in the fabric of maybe. That track, those tracks, somehow leaks into the dreaming.

I am not mithering about these things. Of a night we watch some telly and maybe do a quiz. At the moment we are doing university challenge re-runs. Dependent upon the questions bias I can get anything between two and a dozen questions right. Each morning, I empty the coffee grounds, check what the coypu have been up to and feed the birds. Every afternoon we feed the stray cats and top up the birds.

It is so far removed from famous geezer land and hamster wheel dizziness.

Why then do I have dreams with prime ministers, presidents and high lamas?

I can’t explain it.

Who might crop up tonight, we shall see…