A giant mutant hedgehog in my dreams

Along with the ability to fly. There was a method of 'taking off,' that was easy if hard to explain. I could do it though... a strange series of cliffs, one where walking down to the edge was steep, another where it was all much less sheer, people in Edwardian gear, or even stages of undress sitting right on the cliff edge. A comedian telling a joke, giving us two directions, South and East-West. We were supposed to choose East-West. A friend telling me she wanted to make me an honorary citizen of Trowbridge.

Flying and the Giant Hedgehog was best.

All well and good. One cup of coffee to wake me up, one more story here, then on to work. With more coffee.

Piers Gaveston

No Whitby this year. I miss it.

So I will comfort myself with the story of a ghost near Whitby, up at Scarborough Castle. Piers Gaveston is an unusual ghost. In life he was the close friend and possible lover of Edward II. Piers made a lot of enemies by dint of being an aggravating git, and when it all fell apart he found himself under siege at Scarborough Castle. He was killed elsewhere but Scarborough Castle is where his ghost is seen, sometimes luring/scaring folk over the castle walls to their doom, sometimes as a headless man wandering around. How then do they know it's him? Because apparently his head follows his body, pulling itself along the ground by its teeth.

What a way to spend eternity. Who'd be 14th century ectoplasm?