UNTITLED (as yet)

Not my usual sort of thing but I had this dream ....

You’re on the operating table and there’s lights shining into your face. Silhouettes move and there are muffled voices saying things like ‘needle’ ‘spreader’ ‘julienne’ ‘wider’ ‘cassoulet’ ‘jus’ (etc) And you realise you’re having surgery in your chest. Your eyes flicker, grow accustomed to the sharp contrasting light and dark and you move your head slightly. Someone says “he’s awake” Someone else says it’s OK he can’t feel anything. A third voice, a woman’s, says ‘We’ve got to the heart of the problem’ And you can see a screen, bright and straight above your head. this woman’s voice says why don’t you have a look at what we’re doing? And you can see the backs of heads and they’re looking at a stew of lovely looking juices, a casserole. You can only smell a sharp smell, one of those harsh cleaning smells, but everything looks tasty. And then you realise that this figure is using some kind of shiny metal device to move the lattice crust of bones and cartilage to reveal more clearly what’s going on. Now that woman looks at you. “Interesting isn’t it?” And you see she’s running a Sabatier up and down a diamond sharpening steel. ’12, 13, 14,’ she says. ‘That should do it.’ And she puts the knife down on a zinc table. ‘Now, let me explain’ And she tells you what she’s going to do. You think you hear her say she’s going to sauté the stock basics. ‘Then we’ll add the main ingredients - the meat of the whole thing, the pulses and other essentials. We’ve already got a lovely ochre colour but I’d like to think there’s enough in there to oil the necessaries. Next, we’ll try to spice things up. Turmeric’s good and perhaps something a little sweeter. Some cinnamon perhaps.' You suggest you’d like some honey dripped into the whole thing. ‘What a good idea,’ she says. 'perhaps we can add that when things have come to the boil. When things are simmering down a little. It might help to take the pressure off.’ You’d also like some hints of cream but not dairy cream - something vegetal. ‘I’ve never thought of that.’ she says. ‘But we may not need that. Can we see how things are after we’ve got going?’ Of course, you say, I’m in your hands. You hear the whirring noise of a coffee grinder. And you can see a whisk churning things up in the cauldron. Next a voice, muffled, said something like “Needle.” You see pink spongy stuff streaks of yellow and pink. There are also bright metal implements allowing full access to a bag that gets big then small. Big. Small. Like that. Sort of pumping the very blood of life. Now that, she said, is your heart and that’s where we think the problem is. What problem? The wrong proportions. You’ve spiced things up a bit too much. So what I’m going to do is inject a soothing herb combination. You may feel a freezing burn but that will be replaced by a warm sugary glow. Lovely, you said. You feel a rush of ice then a juicy, fruity kind of feeling. Now we’ll put the lid back on to lock everything in, allow it all to simmer. Hang on, you say. While everything’s open. Can you tattoo the heart? Well, she said, that’s an unusual request. It’s a bit saucy in there but I’ll have a go. There's some commotion and you hear a whisking sound. She reappears. I’ve made a suitable dark jus I think. What shall I write? Simple, you reply. L. O. V. E. That’s a bit cheesy, she says. But here goes. The whirring noise begins again. Hang on, you yell. Just one thing I’d like to know. In future when my heart beats faster will I feel the love. Definitely, she said. Is that to your taste? Yes, you say. Crack on.