So apparently everyone dreams every night, it's just that we often don't remember them in the morning. I always do - obviously I have an ultra vivid imagination and I do like to think about what I have dreamt about and sometimes, dare I say it......analyse them.
When I was a little girl I remember telling my Mum that I had seen pictures in my head of little boys in pinstripe trousers with golden pageboy haircuts. Now I'm sure that I didn't exactly describe it like that as I was only about 3, but please bear with me, it was the very early 1970's and the tv was the home to many a variety show, including one for kids that I think was called 'Junior Showtime' and I'm sure that's where these little golden mopped stripy bottomed kids had come from.
My Mum said ''och ( she is Scottish) don't worry, it's just a dream'' so I thought for a while that dreams were infact the aforementioned little lads with shiny yellow locks and dodgy clothes. Oh hindsight though, it could also maybe have been one of my childhood heroes - Mr Andy Pandy, minus the hat.
I then progressed to the nightmare when I was about 7. I had woken up one night to find our old cat Winkie sat by my bed in the dark with her eyes glowing at me and then I went on to have a succession of horrible dreams about black cats with shiny eyes.
As I entered my teens I suppose most of my dreams involved snogging, preferably Adam Ant or Simon Le Bon and they were the sort of dreams that you don't want to wake up from........
And now I am a grown up? Well I dream about all sorts of silly stuff.
I had a cheeky afternoon siesta the other day and dreamt that my friend Leanne's granny knew John Lennon's mum. I had to go and meet granny, and Leanne warned me not to mention her claim to fame and the first thing she said was ''eyy, soft lass ( she was a scouser and Leanne is from Bristol so god knows) guess who I knew, like?'' Bizarre. Totally bizarre...............unless Leanne isn't telling me something hmm?
Then last night I had a starnge and quite scary dream. We lived in our old house, Freddy the spaniel was a white staffy pup and it was some sort of festival type day in St Ives. Martha had taken Freddy but had left her mobile phone at my friend Belinda's house and it was late and I was worried. My old old departed dog Sam was there too and I kept thinking how great he looked bearing in mind he would now be 26. It was raining and stormy. Martha's friend Billie phoned me and said that she had last seen Martha on the beach in the awful weather and I was sick with anxiety. Obviously none of the phones I had worked and I couldn't remember anybody's numbers anyway.
The wanderer returned, climbing over the back fence. She was drunk, Freddy was safe and I yelled.
I then woke up and for a brief moment I had to think where I was and where Martha was. It left me feeling 'odd',
Would anyone care to analyse this? I had no cheese last night and apart from that slept well.
is it because I am currently writing a proper story with 2 friends and that my creative juices are flowing ?
All comments gratefully accepted, and any odd dreams too.
Keep it clean though........................no snogging Adam Ant, he's mine!
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