Conversations from under the duvet
Sometimes when I go to bed at night, my brain goes into overdrive and I start thinking about life, love, the universe and all those kinds of things.
Last night was one of those nights – I started reading The Alchemist again and that got me thinking...
Me: “I can’t believe people still do alchemy”
Mr Meep (Sighs and puts his book down): “They don’t”
Me: “Yes they do, it says here that Paulo Coelho studied Alchemy in the 1970s, and he was fascinated with finding the Elixir of Life”
Mr Meep: “Well, people might do it as say, Pagans might make potions, but it doesn’t actually work.”
Silence as I ponder this for a while.
Me: “What’s it all about?”
Mr Meep (A very big sigh, followed by over-emphasised putting down of book): “What?”
Me: “Life. I mean – it’s really confusing isn’t it. Why are we here? What are we supposed to be doing? I want to find out what it all means. What do you think it’s all about?”
Mr Meep: “Well, I think it’s all random and chaotic and everything can be explained by science.”
More silence as the cogs are turning in my brain. Mr Meep thinks that’s shut me up for a bit and carries on reading.
Five minutes later...
Me: “Sara (a friend who has similar 'issues') has asked Stan and Betty next door what it’s all about. They’re old and they still haven’t worked it out. It’s really scary. I think I’m going to read loads of books on the subject and try to find my own conclusions.”
Mr Meep: “What, even scientific books?”
Me: “Yes – everything.”
Mr Meep’s silence indicates that he is probably thinking: “She won’t read a science book – she’ll be bored after one page.”
A few more pages of reading later…
Me: “What about psychics?”
Mr Meep (really getting a bit cross now): “What about them?”
Me: “We must have destinies or the psychics wouldn’t be able to predict them. I was thinking about this earlier. If I hadn’t gone to uni in Leicester, and I’d gone to Liverpool or Manchester, would I have met you? Were we destined to meet or would I have met someone else?”
Mr Meep (exasperated): “Well, I’m glad I met you but I don’t think it was destiny.”
Gosh, where has the romance gone?
I sulk silently for a bit, then go back to The Alchemist.
Me: “The thing is, Mr Meep, how am I supposed to follow my dream if I don’t know what my dream is.”
Mr Meep carries on reading.
Me: “What’s your dream?”
Mr Meep: “To finish this book without getting interrupted every five minutes.”