Weds Feb 6th 2013

7 a.m.

Groggy. Eyes barely open this morning. Dreams. What do I remember? Urgh it’s FREEZING! The boiler must have thrown a wobbly during the night. Dreams. A friend from school. Streets that look like Santa Monica. Friends from drama school. Also one friend from my old job. A ghost train ride through streets that look like London. An old romantic interest wearing his old glasses catches my eye as I go past at the front of the ghost train but we don’t speak or even smile. A fleeting second. There are no tracks. It is being controlled by someone or something, but there are no tracks. It goes fast and it’s fun but I’m not scared. It gets higher and higher on the invisible track and I’m still not freaking out. It’s kind of scary when it’s REALLY high up but I’m enjoying it. Once that’s over I go to a café, there is a table outside and one of my friends is there with a couple of other people I suppose I know but I can’t remember who and there isn’t a chair so I’m standing. My friend from my old job comes along and positions herself in between the two of us, I move closer to the end of the table. Then another friend arrives and talk turns to getting drinks from the bar. I want to get tea. Haha good to know that even in dreams tea is really all I ever want out of life. Nothing cryptic there. The others disappear downstairs, myself and my friend go to the bar which to begin with looks very ornate. Reminds me a bit of a temple my parents used to take me to as a child but not sure why. Stone brown tiles, everything in smooth granite, brass fittings everywhere. It looks like the kind of bar you’d expect to find in Dubai or something, no carpets. Anyway we get to the front of the line, this might be a different dream, and it’s like an old sandwich café type set up. We both look for something to eat. There are sandwiches, cheese sandwiches and other sandwiches look fine but I don’t want them. There are sweets and chocolate stuff, like small cakes, cornflake cakes in metal racks too and eventually, under pressure, I pick up a small cornflake cake (after frantically looking for it) and a mint chocolate bar. Not sure what the chocolate bar actually was. My friend also picks up two chocolate bars. We agree that it doesn’t matter who pays for what, and agree to split it. We end up paying for each other’s stuff. Unknown to me, the cashier is also expecting to be paid for accommodation as part of the transaction, so my friends bill is around £700. I am panicked as I don’t know if I have the money to pay. It’s my turn and I wait anxiously as the transaction processes. Do I remember the pin?! It goes through, but it seems to take ages. The 2 ladies who serve are middle aged, seem slightly grotesque to me. We are on camera the whole time and they start to play back each of my reactions as I wait for the transaction to go through. I am embarrassed. Through the back I can see, somehow, and then I’m there, in the family home, kids playing together. The place is decked out like a typical Indian family home that I spent time in when younger on awful family trips, flowery carpets, everything looks quite dark. There is more to this I’m sure, but I can’t remember and now remember a different dream I think.

Mum and brother. We seem to be in some place that is outside our usual haunts. Not sure where though. My brother wants to go and eat at the library, they have a great dinner once a week, would make a change. Mum complains and says that whenever he chooses we end up at some mad vegan place, like that farm he took us to. Interesting considering Mum is basically a vegan too. Hmm. Anyway, she asks me about the job, did I enquire for her. I did, I say, but they expect you to work 10 hours on a Wednesday, would you do that? Can’t remember much of this one, my brain is trying to fill the gaps but I think it’s filling it with stuff from other dreams that I’ve remembered so not going to add them here although maybe that’s a conscious block that I should ignore urgh.

Other dream. A good friend from school, recently married. Visiting her while in the area. She is living in my sister’s old bedroom at my Dad’s house. Clothes are strewn everywhere, everything is a trip hazard. Bizarre as this friend is really organised and very tidy but anyway. Her husband isn’t around, I notice, but don’t ask questions. We are talking. Conversation I remember is about a friend who I have now completely lost touch with, a lovely guy who I have known since I was at primary school and recently saw on Facebook that he’s just become a Dad. Amazing. Sad we lost touch, he really was such a nice guy. Anyway the conversation was about him, he had an amazing stag do which my friend wasn’t expecting to be invited to (obviously, she’s a girl) but he invited her anyway and there were loads of girls there so it wasn’t really a stag do at all, rather it was just a big fun party. I liked that as if I have a hen do, it’ll take the same form, just a big party. Anyway she tells me the details of the party, she went because she was so desperate to have a good time and down some something or other, referring to some kind of drink I think. I can’t remember the terms but it involved the word “tank” and the guy was against his wishes forced to sing a solo on the stage. He’s always been a great singer and he’s too shy to share it but at his party he was made to and even enjoyed it. A dress is crumpled up. It’s black with a white trim and I think it looks too pretty to ruin so I pick it up and lay it across the bed so that the creases might start to fall out. Her brother walks in, I jump. No knock? Anyway, he is her brother, but he is actually another guy I know, which I think I notice in the dream and say something about her brother looking different. Then he looks like someone who’s name I can’t remember. Long ginger hair, shabby beard, blue eyes, decked out like the frontman of an American Alternative band.  By the time I’m saying goodbye or maybe he is, can’t remember, he looks like my friends’ brother as I remember him. A street I recognise in my home town. Nice houses. My friend is cleaning a car, can’t remember what the car is. A flower. Red. Growing from a house. I ask if they live on this street, how nice! How to get started. Money from parents. Fair enough I say. Anything else. Anything else. The dream with my Mum and brother, something about jam comes up. In the dream in the sandwich shop, I’m concerned about eating too much. Don’t want the sandwiches if I know I’m eating properly later. Anything else. Anything. In the dream with my friend from school I go to the corner of the room and see a pile of paper. She is in the middle of the room surrounded by clutter, I’m not sure of what she’s doing. I explain that everything is a massive trip hazard and that I almost fell. She says she is sorry. The street we are on in the ghost train feels like a market street without the market. A pub on the right where people were congregated, including the old romantic interest with old glasses and old hairstyle. Was anyone else I recognised there? Apparently I was on this ride with people I knew because we were talking and joking and they knew my name, but I didn’t recognise them or maybe just don’t remember. It was a great day. Not sunny. Hmm, that’s all I think I remember for now.

Insane! Lots remembered, glad I’ve remembered that much though, wonder what it all means and what my brain is trying to process exactly. Oh God, crisis, we’re out of tea bags! HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?! Another good day ahead, no doubt. Squash later too, good to do a variety of stuff  and will be good to see the guys too, in a funny way I’ve missed them. The heating is on. I wish my dreams were more interesting, always hoped that if I started remembering them better I’d discover some hidden magic in my brain that would make me feel like a more interesting person. Apparently not the case, never mind.. Maybe I’m just not remembering the really exciting, dreamy fantastical bits and will start soon. Haha inner critic even criticises the content of dreams. Owch. It’s like fighting a losing battle. The news is on. Something about hospitals. Chief Inspector of Hospitals!? Who’d want to do that?! I’d rather eat porridge than think about it.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s