Writings

Overtly Symbolic Dreams

I decided to start a page about my dreams, the ones I don’t illustrate/ haven’t yet.

Granted,  they aren’t interesting to others but that didn’t stop Martin Luther King (jr) did it?

And it won’t stop me.

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Last night/this morning:

I was babysitting for a very small quiet baby girl that I carried in a baby sling. She was like a little doll and slept most of the time so probably a newborn. My son was staying with me (he’s not even a teenager anymore) and I, for some insane reason, was looking after this little girl for a neighbour. Suddenly, people started trying to get into my flat. I was absolutely terrified and freaked out about protecting the baby and making them stay out.

These people were very half-hearted about it, like they were trying to get into my house in a kind way but had to do it i.e. break in because that’s how it was for everyone. One was dressed as a naff ninja, one as a scruffy power ranger etc. They didn’t come in as I stopped them by screaming and stopping the doors/windows opening. When I screamed to my son to help me, they left. Later, I found a tennis racket to hit them with if they tried it again…

Next bit:  I was down the pub with my son and his girlfriend and lots of interesting older people of my age (as if!) but not boozing (ooh progress). I saw an ex boyfriend who was now a brilliant artist (anyone see that Lucien Freud prog last night?) who said that there was an empty house near him. Meaning, I much later realised, (as per) that he assumed I wanted to get back with him…

One of my (dead) mothers was in the next bar of the pub and started telling me what my problem was. This time I told her what her problem was, with the help of some old bloke she apparently knew, and she started crying…

After all the emotional upset of this dream this bit was so painful that I woke up thinking about how much it hurts to be told you’re wrong and even more painful to turn it back onto others in self-defence.

And that’s why I don’t like going out ;op