Monday, 12 November 2012

Weird dreams

I very seldom have full-on nightmares of the world-coming-to-an-end, monster-eating-my-leg variety.  But in the last few days I’ve had two absolutely miserable dreams; dreams that left me practically shaking with relief when I woke and realised they weren’t true.

The first was late last week; I dreamed I had to move house again, and I had just three days to do it in.  I had arranged to get all my belongings into storage and was frantically packing; but of course with only three days leeway I was so busy packing that I’d had no time to look for somewhere else to move to.  So I was about to decamp into a local hotel, at the truly painful cost of £120 per night, room only (meaning I would have spent more than my usual month’s rent in just five days).  No-one I spoke to saw anything wrong or odd about my situation, so that as well as being frantic with worry I was also constantly being struck by the fact that I must be a deeply pathetic person to get myself so worked up about minor matters like this.

The second bad dream was last night.  I was going on holiday and had arrived at the airport; there were 2 hours to go to my flight and I was standing at the queue to check-in when I suddenly realised I had left all my baggage at home.  So there I was in Gatwick, desperately trying to think whether there was any way, using the rather stupid selection of shops one finds in an airport, that I could buy myself a whole holiday wardrobe, plus toiletries, books, binoculars, sketchbook, camera, contact lenses and a replacement pair of specs, plus a bag to put them in, before the check-in closed, and still have a bit of spending money left for things like food while I was away.  To add to my state of nerves, my mother then turned up, having decided very sweetly to come and see me off; and she could not understand why I was so upset, or why I felt I had any kind of a problem.  So, again, I had the additional stress of thinking “What is wrong with me, that I am upset by this, when here’s Mum telling me it’s a really trivial matter?”

Talk about deep-seated insecurities!  When I have dreams like this I end up thinking I’d rather not remember them at all.  Not like the one a few months ago when I dreamed I was recently and happily married and busy renovating a house by a lake with my husband.  Now that was lovely!

I don’t know why I’m having such miserable, insecure dreams.  I didn’t think I was particularly miserable or insecure at the moment, indeed rather the opposite.  But the human mind is a mysterious thing, god wot.  Maybe being contented, busy and in good spirits is making my subconscious mind panic. 

I am contented.  Yes, I could have more in my life (a publishing deal, my own home, a garden, a gift-wrapped Jeremy Renner [preferably in my bed], etc etc) but my family are all in good health, I’m happy in my job, I’m comfortable where I live, I have friends, I can afford a holiday each year - plus  a few concerts, theatre tickets etc - my bladder is behaving itself again; and I have my writing, which has driven me mad and worn me out this summer but has also been a well-spring of joy and fulfillment like little else I’ve known.  So I am contented and I have a lot to be grateful for.  Blessed be!

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