Dreams Can Come True (But I really hope they don’t)

I’ve always been a dreamer but lately (and for a long while now) I’ve literally been a dreamer – every night I have dreams so vivid I have no fucking clue how to process them. Or even if dreams really do mean half as much as we give them credit for.

I’m thinking of getting a dream journal so I can work through them because some of my night time adventures are so off the chain they have to be something, don’t they? I want to believe they are, anyway. I know it’s really just my brain working through my anxieties and my thoughts from the day but could it be something more?

Last night, I dreamt I was being held hostage by a family of yetis in the woods. I managed to escape because I fortuitously found a yeti mask and was able to convince them I was one of them – and then I escaped. Not after having to grunt convincingly for the ringleaders, because one of them was suspicious.

WHAT THE FUCK?

It doesn’t sound as tense as the actual dream felt, but in the moment it was a life and death situation – and I knew my body language and my verbal nods had to seem legit. And when I was out, I felt that rush of being free, of being safe again – and it was GREAT.

So the yetis were a one off but I often have reoccurring dreams, or I explore similar themes. My horrid ex is always popping up, always angry and every time I’m trying frantically to get away from him – that’s a bad one to experience continually.

I suppose the reason I have that one is pretty straightforward; it’s my worst nightmare to bump into him or to ever have to clap eyes on him again – so duh.

I think those ones come down to guilt: the guilt of allowing myself to make the choices I did back then. It’s like a PTSD situation which might sound a bit casual to throw into a blog post about dreams but is testament to the damage leftover by an abusive relationship.

I wish those ones would stop because sometimes I act out violently and have a moment on waking where I believe I’m guilty of something I can never take back.

Ditto my old best friend, she makes appearances a lot but in a much less dramatic way. We’re usually friends again (no) and I feel guilty about having to tell my actual real life best friend. It’s a relief to leave those ones behind too.

Life is strange, isn’t it? We do what we have to do and everything we juggle can be overwhelming – and then we have to run away from Big Foot at night. It would be nice to switch off my mind at least half of the week – or maybe dream only on weekends?

What are your thoughts on dreams?

Sunday’s Girl

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TBH I just love this image

This morning my rut took me out of the flat and walking round the park, talking to my friend Lauren on the phone for over an hour.

Honestly, following the pettiest fight in the history of all fights with the man I married, I was looking to lick my wounds in Superdrug. A basic bitch go fuck yourself to the ‘man’, you know how it goes.

A couple of lipsticks and a contour kit later and I was over my rage and ready to go home.

Time to work on the little by little life plan, huh?

Lozza, on the phone, was talking about sorting out her life and I’m there too, ready to make some minor tweaks to make life a bit more exciting.

Expect to hear more about this. Hell, I’ll take suggestions if they’re good ones, truly.

My first thing is to take myself out more. Me dates. I love that feeling of gently meandering around, processing thoughts, dreaming.

I need to get myself out more on Sundays, that’s for sure. Even if it’s just a walk in the park.

Night Terrors

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Mummy…?

When you want to post but it’s a slow news week.

Let’s list all the things that keep me awake at night, rendering me a tired and anxious mess by 7am, shall we?

  • Work stuff, usually something I can’t control/is nothing to do with me
  • Taxes
  • Have I been rude to someone? (Not including the over-enthusiastic girl in the co-op who just annoys me so much so I can’t help being really grumpy toward her – my guilty secret.)
  • The annoying, over-enthusiastic girl in the co-op
  • Whether or not to cut my hair
  • Am I having a stroke?
  • Why did I WebMD that pain in my arm?
  • Everybody hates me
  • Why wasn’t I invited to that party?
  • Why don’t I have a ‘squad’?
  • What was that noise?
  • Philip Seymour Hoffman
  • Seriously, what was that noise?
  • Am I a good friend?
  • Does Jay Z really love Beyoncé?
  • Why are Twiglets so fucking good but so mucky to eat?
  • Money or lack thereof
  • But Mum said being poor could be a good thing?
  • Can it be a good thing?
  • But I like stuff!
  • Goodreads 2015 Reading Challenge and being 2 books behind schedule…
  • Great White Sharks

To name but a short list of an ever undulating list of worries.

Anyone else?

Dream Weaver

tumblr_nrupgrR0VI1qiww0to1_500I’ve been having the most bizarre and vivid dreams lately. Perhaps it’s not that surprising given all the human centipedes, creeps and Sensates (not to mention, vengeful feminist vampire teens) I’ve exposed myself to in recent weeks, but still.

Maybe it’s more to do with eating ice cream right before bed, three evenings in a row?

Whatever it is, I’ve been spending my nights roaming the woods with my crossbow (last night), leading an apocalypse survivors gang (night before) and rushing around Disneyland Paris (specifically a new Monsters Inc themed park), trying to find a phone to call work and tell them I’m going to be late (Monday).

Every morning this week I have woken up relieved be in my own bed and not lost in the wilderness. What’s going on, yo? It’s getting exhausting!

Of course these are good old fashioned anxiety dreams, everybody has them from time to time. There are the usual everyday bits and bobs going on, some existential shit such as “What’s it all about?” and the “I need a new job” shiz, but nothing more than normal, or out of the ordinary.

So why am I ferociously fighting for my life, or to get to the office on time, in almost all dreams? Perhaps my inner wall flower gets her best work done subconsciously. Maybe biting my damn tongue all time is finally getting to me and this is my outlet (I’m trying not to be the apologetic/overly diplomatic one all the time).

Whatever the answer is, I’m sure I’ll be doing the same thing tonight. Perhaps I should start paying more attention on these adventures, they’d make great films.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Ten What Ifs and a Masterplan

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I woke up like this

Imagine this crazy idea:

What if from this moment on I rejected fear?

What if I heard my own voice echoed back to me as I talked and thought, yeah she knows what she’s about. And so, I started talking louder and without hesitation.

What if I trusted my own opinions and when presenting them I thought, this is an amazing idea, who wouldn’t be into it?

What if I didn’t worry so much about who liked me and thought not, I wonder if she likes me instead, Do I like her?

What if I caught a glimpse of myself in a reflective surface and thought, she looks good. And so, I held my head higher?

What if I forgot to refer to myself as the fat one, the old one; THE FRUMPY ONE, and believed I was just as precious as every one of my friends?

What if I stopped wondering, am I’m pretty or ugly, instead I realised my worth regardless of the answer?

And what if, when someone complimented I didn’t counter it with an argument; instead I just said, simply, thank you?

What if I stopped talking about my dreams and picked one to follow; stopped planning to write and just wrote?

What if I stopped thinking, what if and lived my life instead?

What a crazy world that would be.

Hand-Me-Downs: The Red Shoes

My red shoes looked nothing like these!
My red shoes looked nothing like these!

Clothes and toys, recipes and jokes, advice and prejudice: we all have to handle all sorts of hand-me-downs every day. Tell us about some of the meaningful hand-me-downs in your life. Via The Daily Post (10th September 2014)

I coveted those red shoes for what felt like years. To my childish heart, it felt like forever but in reality it was probably just a few weeks. Those shoes, though, those pillar box red, stiletto heeled mules; they epitomised glamour, making me think of women. Of the woman I so desperately wanted to be.

I must have been about ten or eleven and I was already daydreaming about who I would become.

My aunt owned those shoes and I insisted, every time we went round, that I get to try them on. One day I will buy my shoes just like these, I would think to myself as I trotted around like the perfect cliché of a little girl, except less cute.

I was a tom boy (I think) with short hair back then (not my choice) and my aunt Sine was glamorous to me, with long hair and lashes. Looking back I never saw her wear these shoes herself, and she always seemed to be doing something practical, with two sons it was just the way it was. Still, that’s how I saw it; I wanted to walk in those shoes and be just like her.

I could draw you a picture of them right now if you asked me to, their shape and how they felt is still etched on my heart. They were The Future and when my aunt finally handed them over, I thought my tiny heart might burst with happiness.

I wore my shoes the incredible day they finally became mine and then, as quickly and as childishly as I had fallen for them, I put them away in favour of The Millenium Falcon. I still think of them to this day though and of what they represented to me.

Road Tripping

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‘Tis the season for road trips — if time and money were out of the equation, what car-based adventure would you go on? (If you don’t or can’t drive, any land-based journey counts.)

Via The Daily Post (27th July 2014)

Like all predictably cliched girls, one of the items on my bucket list is indeed ‘Go on a Road Trip’. I like the idea of getting in a van or a car and going anywhere the wind takes me. I have been lucky enough in my past to have been part of more than one.

In Australia, my brand new Irish friend and I bought into a battered old station wagon with two Canadian boys and we travelled together for a few months, boogie boards in the back, love beads hanging from the rear view mirror. See? Cliche.

tumblr_n9c6ctxECJ1tu3m8ao1_500I don’t even remember what happened to the car in the end or the boys, although I do remember on the night of my 21st birthday that I threw myself at one of them, the first and last time I ever took the initiative with a guy (sad but true). Later my preferred mode of transport was the trusty Greyhound. Every time I scored a window seat I would imagine I was Julia Roberts in Sleeping With the Enemy, off to start a new life.

Now, I have someone I want to see the World with and ironically we’ve not been on holiday abroad for years. This is both for economical reasons and more besides. I’m not worried though, for my love makes me feel as free and as invincible as the breeze in my hair and the sun on my face.

But if I could choose my ideal trip it would, unsurprisingly, be the whole USA/Route 66 experience. Those wide open roads, the skies; nature. I want to live it, breathe it all in.

I want the cabin in the woods, the tent by a stream, “You kids ain’t from around here, are you?” treatment, without the killings, obvs.

I want to turn off my phone, pull out my Polaroid camera, listen to Skynyrd in t-shirt and jeans, no make-up, tangled hair. I want laughter and adventure. Burgers and pancakes. Freckles on my arms.

I want it all.

Yes, I have thought about this a lot and maybe one day I shall have my wish. One day we will take a month off and just drive. Until then, there are mini-trips and bus rides and the countryside.

Adventure is in the heart.