Exorcism

[poliphilo]

I dreamed my space had been invaded by a demon. He was sitting there grinning at me and all the time growing in power. As a last defence I told him he wasn't real- and to my surprise it worked. He immediately went all floppy and see-through and useless.

Comments

[jackiejj.livejournal.com]

Now, there's an instructive and mentally healthy dream!

I envy you.

Sunday night, I dreamed I was being pursued by something-or-other, and was in a long labyrinth, somehow managing to figure out how to escape one more time, until finally the jig was up, and I knew it. I walked out into the room and waited to be nabbed. A group of other people were standing there, all in the same jam, I guess, and a woman said, "Walk toward them with your head high."

I'm at the Anne Boleyn stage of life, I guess.

You're deflating demons. Nobody's gonna get you!

[poliphilo.livejournal.com]

My turn to sing you a song- (rather less poetic than the one you sang me.)

WITH HER HEAD TUCKED UNDERNEATH
HER ARM.
by
R P Weston and Bert Lee


In the Tower of London large as life,
The Ghost of Anne Boleyn walks they declare.
For Anne Boleyn was once King Henry's wife,
Until he made the headsman bob her hair!
Ah, yes, he did her wrong, long years ago
And, she comes up at night to tell him soooo!


With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the Bloody Tower
With her head tucked underneath her arm
At the midnight hour.

She comes to haunt King Henry,
She means to give him 'what for',
Gadzook! She's going to tell him off
For having split her gore,
And, just in case the headsman
Wants to give her an encore,
She has her head tucked underneath her arm.


With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the Bloody Tower
With her had tucked underneath her arm
At the midnight hour.

Along the draughty corridors,
For miles and miles she goes.
She often catches cold, poor thing,
It's cold there when it blows.
And it's awfully awkward for the Queen,
To have to blow her nose,
With her head tucked underneath her arm.


With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the Bloody Tower
With her head tucked underneath her arm
At the midnight hour!

Sometimes gay King Henry gives a spread,
For all his pals and gals and ghostly crew.
The headsman carves the joint and cuts the bread
Then in comes Anne Boleyn to 'queer the do!'
She holds her head up with a wild war whoop!
And Henry cries, "Don't drop it in the soup!"


With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the Bloody Tower
With her head tucked underneath her arm
At the midnight hour.

The sentries think that it's a football,
That she carries in.
And when they've had a few they shout,
'Is Ars'nal going to win?'
They think it's Alec James,
Instead of poor old Ann Boleyn,
With her head tucked underneath her arm.

With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the Bloody Tower
With her head tucked underneath her arm
At the midnight hour.

One night she caught King Henry
He was in the canteen bar
Said he, "Are you Jane Seymore,
Anne Boleyn or Catherine Parr?"
"How the sweet san fairy ann,
Do I know who you are?"
With your head tucked underneath your arm!

With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the Bloody Tower
With her head tucked underneath her arm
At the midnight hour.

[jackiejj.livejournal.com]

Just right for Halloween week!