[as the seer of seers, Gabrielle, once sang]
I was at a well-attended party.
It was at a remote country house hotel.
It was a ‘leaving the country’ farewell party.
The party wasn’t being thrown for me, it was for a friend of mine.
She was a Guardian journalist; I think her name was Hannah.
She was short, blonde, cute.
And she was shortly to depart these shores for Chile (ironically, a country I have always wanted to visit).
Most of the people there were very drunk.
I was with a friend.
Can’t remember who.
Despite most people being drunk, I was quite sober.
Though I was lying on the floor of the hotel lounge.
My friend had just told Hannah how funny I was.
I told Hannah that although I was sober, I was even funnier when I was drunk.
I told her that I thought of gags when I was in bed.
And that when I was drunk I wrote my gags down so I’d remember them the next day, but usually I was so drunk that when I read the notes back, my handwriting was illegible scribbles and doodles.
When I woke from this dream it was 2am.
I didn’t write it down, I made just enough notes on my phone to enable me to recall the details later.
Ironically, I couldn’t remember anything about the dream the next morning.
A couple of weeks later I found the note on my phone, and the details came flooding back, in full colour.
In the last twelve months I have woken to fading dream-memories just twice.
The other set of dream notes is far too horrific to recount here.
If I could find out what I’ve been eating to make these things occur, I’d never touch it again.
How about you?
Dreams?
Nightmares?
I remember one from a couple of years back, where I had murdered someone and buried them in the woods.
The dream wasn’t about the murder itself – or the burying – but rather about the body being discovered and the police making a statement that they had enough evidence to find the culprit.
In the dream I was panicking that what I’d thought I’d got away with, was about to go so badly for me.
I woke up at that point in a cold sweat (I have never done that before) and so vivid and real was the dream that I was convinced it had actually happened and that it was something I must have pushed to the back of my memory.
It took me a good ten minutes to realise that it really was just a dream.
OMG, you are a criminal! And you would have got away with it too, if it wasn’t for those pesky kids.
I have quite vivid dreams most nights, often waking up and then continuing my dream when I go back to sleep.
Dawn thinks I am bonkers, she’s probably correct.
She is a woman of immaculate judgement, obv.