I know I dream most nights, and sometimes I remember snatches of dreams, sometimes I remember most of a dream but it quickly evaporates before I can properly think about it. That can be quite irritating as I feel sure I could remember it if only I had one clue about what I was up to. My dreams are very rarely of any significance, although sometimes there’s a waft of an idea which triggers some writing. Now, I’m always very interested in other people’s dreams – if you are not like me, and you find others’ night-time ramblings boring or dull, then don’t read on. I am about to share my latest nocturnal adventure, and I won’t be offended if you have no interest and leave me! My featured image is obviously a model of Tintin I saw which had been left or lost in a grassy field, he looks somewhat alarmed and lost as I was in my dream!
I’d been walking for miles, walking for hours and hours. For some reason my friend had driven off without me, leaving me to walk home – although where that was I didn’t know. I was near a river wandering through grassy meadows, with picnickers sitting on rugs and blankets. Suddenly, instantly, I was transported into a town. Was it a very old place? No, there were modern buildings among the ancient tumbledown cottages and town houses. There were busy markets and I began to climb steep streets, lined with stalls.
Someone gave me a lift – or was it Simone who opened her car door, or was it Simon? I couldn’t tell and I was becoming slightly alarmed, and more than a little fed up. Simone and her car had vanished, and I was on foot again and passed a group of hippies – or were they Buddhists? I think they were Buddhists and they did speak to me, but I’m not sure what they said. Were they speaking in English? I don’t know, and I wandered on.
For once it wasn’t a friendly, happy dream, it was troubling and I was mildly anxious. I worried about running out of battery on my phone – but why I didn’t use it to ring for help, I’ve no idea. Obviously a dream thing – that phones don’t work or aren’t used.
I passed groups of people, they were neither friendly nor unfriendly, but I was uneasy with some of the strangers who didn’t respond to my greetings or even seem to notice me. Sometimes I passed very old wooden buildings – or was it the same ones I’d passed several times earlier? I stopped outside one; it was so old it seemed almost dangerous to enter, although it wasn’t scary or threatening. The wood was very dry and almost grey, unpainted, unpolished but there was nothing of interest about it.
I walked on again, just trying to find my way out. I came to a busy and very quaint old area with strings of lights everywhere, the old houses packed together higgledy-piggledy like a quaint place in a jigsaw picture.
I woke up – still in my dream, uneasy, but relieved. I was in a room with wood-lined walls. We were near a river – were we on or in a large boat like a barge or a houseboat? I was still puzzling about this when Simone (definitely not Simon) appeared and greeted me. She showed me some bottles of opaque liquid. She began to explain something about them, they were quite large flasks, about two pints, but I couldn’t understand what she meant.
Fortunately, shortly after that, I woke up properly, completely confused and not even sure exactly where I was! In my bed, but where was my bed?
Lois Elsden 