As a result of all the alcopops, I had the worst night of sleep imaginable.
Dream #1: The Spanish are so upset that a website I work on isn't translated into Spanish that they've sent someone to my flat to kill me. I can hear them going from room to room with a knife. I try and wake myself up before they kill me, but it's so hard, and I can't remember any Spanish. I finally wake up, and run to the door to get out of the flat when I realise "Oh. A dream. Shit."
Dream #2: I'm visiting my parents. Imaginary nieces and nephews are visiting. My dad's behaving very strangely. Immediately after supper, my Dad goes up to bed, and comes back, in his dressing gown with a mixing bowl. "I'm making them pancakes," he explains, stirring the bowl. I realise that my father is going senile, and burst into tears, hugging him in his dressing gown. He suddenly seems so small. My father starts to cry too. "But they might be hungry..."
No comments:
Post a Comment