I had a dream last night about the coming hermeneutics conference in Nottingham. Here’s how it went: The conference was taking place on a ship. In order to cut costs, we decided not to provide any food. This proved to be a bad idea, because it meant that none of us had anything to eat. On account of the poor quality of this state of affairs, Andrew, who was to chair the opening sessions, decided he wouldn’t bother with it. Anyway, while people were looking around the ship to find something to eat, Anthony Thiselton began to present his paper to a lecture theatre that was empty except for Andrew… and me. He attempted to present his two-hour paper in time with symphonic music that was playing in the background. This tactic meant that he had to speed up the words at times to make them fit, and the result was sheer incomprehensibility. After a while, the captain of the ship informed us all that we had to jump off and swim to shore, as the ship was about to head out to sea. That was when I woke up.
I don’t think I need Freud for this one.