Last night I dreamt I was in love with a very short man. ( He came up to my knees.) He wore his hair in a Hamlet bob although it tended to curl into ringlets around his forehead. He liked to wear plaid trousers and ruffled white shirts and had the confidence of a Latino. ( Gold jewellery and hairy chest too.) What on earth was the sleeping version of myself thinking!!! We kept meeting for lunch in the narrow streets of Fez, Morocco, and he smelt slightly of engine oil on account of all the fast cars he kept in his garage. (I am sure I read somewhere once that you can't actually smell things in dreams but I smell things all the time. Normally bad smells I find rather than good ones but I definitely smell things!). Anyway I have to say that waking up was quite a relief - even though my room was sadly cat free.
I decided to go to yoga to centre myself on 'now' ( rather than dwelling on oily, plaid man and the missing cat) and rather excitingly I actually recognised the fundamental shift of the hips between Warrior position 1 and 2 for the first time. For a cake lover ( which I also am) such a discovery is probably akin to finding that your own oven has spontaneously baked you 12 pink cupcakes :-) while you were at work. Anyway it has put me in a good mood for the whole day - so far - which given my rather shaky dream start is a very happy thing.
I also sent a story away to a publisher in America which made me feel proactive. The sending is always good. The 'I'm so sorry letter' in return - not so but surely better than oily, plaid man!
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2 comments:
on behalf of your subconscious i make a plea for the return of barack and pierce to your dreams!!
Your oily plaid man sounds suspiciously like Lord Farquar from Shrek, and he in turn reminds me of Prince Humperdink from the Princess Bride. On behalf of your subconscious, I'm gunning for Wesley to captivate your sleeping heart. PS - seems Jen's blog advances have given me the skills to finally comment on your blog!!
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