Dream Fury

I’m not really here, I’m really writing NaNoWriMo, but for some reason, my dreams at night are running rampant, so I thought I’d share them!

lady-in-black-cloak

I woke up so furious from a dream, I felt as though my blood were boiling. For some reason I was back in [that other place], and offering to do an arts and crafts workshop on pens! I packed all my various sets of pens and laid them out to show a certain person who once ran the children’s group despite her own child having grown up years ago (who shall remain nameless), and she vetoed the whole thing, and said it wasn’t ‘viable’. So I packed my pens angrily away into my holdall, saying “don’t worry, I was just thinking of doing it in somebody’s home, I’ll organise it myself.” But she started saying something along the lines of that being quite impossible (as though she controlled what went on in other people’s homes!) I packed even more angrily, and she accused me of stealing some cardboard or wooden crap of her own, which I hadn’t done, I just moved it out of my way, which I told her and said it was ridiculous, why on earth would I want to steal her rubbish? So then I stormed out (storm in a teacup, remember? Bitches!) and I stormed through the market, bumping into everybody. Everybody seemed to be wearing black, and I think I was wearing a big black cloak with a hood. I wonder what on earth prompted that, after so many years.

A second dream, I was somewhere up north, I don’t know what I was doing but have a feeling I was in a hospital for some reason. Husband was supposed to be coming to meet me but he kept sending messages saying he was delayed, so I decided to drive myself. Another girl persuaded me to take her with me, and she was supposed to be going to Nottingham, but she didn’t want to go home, so we decided to just abscond together, no idea where we were going. Strange, eh?

And there was another (I think these dreams are actually in reverse order). This one may well have been set in a hospital, it was definitely some kind of institutional building, and as usual, I was on the run, rushing through the building trying to escape and eventually I hid in somebody’s bed, but we were discovered, and we rolled off the bed on to the floor and both started running again.

That last one seems to be my typical dream format. I’m always on the run or being pursued, I have no idea why.

Perhaps I’m just crazy enough to be a writer?

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