Let the sleeping beauty lie
For the past few months I haven’t been able to remember my dreams after waking up in the morning. Well, no actually, I have managed to remember a few, but they’ve mostly been rubbish, the most exciting ones being about doing the laundry or the dishes.
One dream I had was about my eyebrows. I wonder if even Freud would bother to analyse that.
Lately though, my dream life has picked up, and I now have dreams I can actually call interesting. Ok, I admit that basically any dream not involving eyebrows would qualify as interesting, but still. Last night, for example, I dreamt I had three sisters (in real life I have one), and they were comparing their breasts. Fine, they had their clothes on, but you could still see their breasts were quite perky…
Anyway, that wasn’t the main point of my dream. The main point was the house where we lived. I’ve been in that house before, in my dreams that is, and it’s a labyrinth of secret rooms and passageways, and there’s hidden doors everywhere, and to get to my room you have to crawl through this narrow hole hidden inside a huge wardrobe. The hole is actually on the top shelf of that wardrobe, but my dream self is, of course, far more agile than my real-life self what a brilliant word, not.
I love that house. Every time I get a chance to visit it, I always feel strangely elated the next day.
Two nights ago I made a giant vat of chocolate mousse. That made me positively giddy!