Tuesday, 10 May 2016

Dreamin'

I sometimes have really excellent dreams, like really imaginative and crazy and I can't believe my head has created them. I also have some really mundane dreams, like the one where I felt like I spent my whole night's sleep making gravy...in my head. When I wake up and remember a good dream, I always try and write it down to share with whoever is first on my most recent WhatsApp contacts, and now with you. Here are some truly wonderful, confusing and bizarre dreams from the last few weeks: 



                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          
I'm in a pool bar. I've never actually been to a pool bar before. I'm with a group of people, a weird mix, who don't know each other in real life but seem the closest of friends in this dream. Naturally, we're playing pool, but every time it gets to my turn, and I go to hit the ball, it transforms into a doughnut and sluggishly bounces across the felt. This only happens to me, and no one else seems to be shocked or surprised about it. I KNOW, I thought, I'll venture to the Sainsbury's on Tottenham Court Road and buy some tennis balls, which I'll put in place of the pool balls. They turn into doughnuts too. Then I woke up. 
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

There's a girl living with us, but I've never seen her before. She's chopping something in the kitchen, and cuts her finger. My mum and I take her to A&E. Turns out the cut is more serious than anticipated, and she needs to have her whole torso amputated. They attach her head to her pelvis.  She is literally a head on legs. Then I woke up. 
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

Simon and I were planning to host a party - a garden party, you know, bunting, a barbecue, all the trimmings. There was an emergency (I can't remember what it was) and I had to go away for the 2 days before the party, and put Simon in charge of catering. When I returned, making my entrance to the party, I discovered that Simon had only provided potato salad. But a lot of it. A whole table full of bowls, of a variety of sizes, of potato salad. I was distraught. Then I woke up. 
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

I half woke up in the middle of the night. It was dark, and I swore I could see a hologram of Chris Martin's face hovering in above the pile of clothes on my bedroom floor. I have no strong feelings about Chris Martin, so I turned over and went back to sleep. 
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

Toni Morrison (my hero forever) made a late entry to the American Presidential elections and, obviously, smashed it. First black FEMALE president, yes please. Then I woke up...and remembered Trump. 
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

I was at uni and it was dissertation results day (this doesn't exist) and I opened up my envelope to discover I'd got a third in my dissertation. I was distraught and when to see my supervisor to ask him what the deal was, I thought this was pretty decent. He revealed that he was an avid Tinder/dating apps user and wholly disapproved of my conclusions, which had ruined his dream of meeting a partner online. This critique of his dating method, and the suggestion that it probably wouldn't lead to anything that durable unless 'real life' dating was properly employed, was just too much for him and I'd received a third based on distress, disappointment and self-hatred. Then I woke up. 
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

It's July, I'm in South Africa, having a whale of a time digging holes and playing with elephants. I've been here for a little while, and feel truly settled in, not homesick at all. It's just really great. The WiFi is patchy, and I'm pretty busy, so I don't worry about checking my phone too often - but one evening I do. And what am I greeted with? Simon and all his new ladyfriends. I'm talking #sexselfies, elaborate stories, and thousands of women. All I can think is who are these bitchez and why are they on my side of the bed? My response? I send some pictures of elephants. Then I woke up (and actually angry texted Simon who told me it was his evil dream alter-ego, 'Simey', lol). 
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          
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