Weird dreams
Meant to get bizarre dreams due to pregnancy - have been having a few anxious dreams but they seem to be getting longer (or maybe remembering more of them due to waking up more). Last night I had a really really really weird one!
It started out that I was Tracey Barlow (character in UK soap opera). There was no link to the Charlie Stubbs murder, but for some reason I had done something else bad which meant I had to get as far away from Ken and Deirdre as possible. I got on a boat to Ireland - somehow the water around me was indoors as well as the boat, and it was dark. There was lots of old people. I was worried Ken would catch the boat but he didn't.
Then I got to Ireland. I don't think I was Tracey Barlow any more but some similarly machiavellian character. I decided I had to find some sort of shabby apartment to live in - it wouldn't matter what it was like as I would sleep/manipulate my way into nicer digs. I walked through a dark sea-front (again somehow indoors and outdoors at the same time) shouting to the shop-keepers that I needed a job. An asian woman offered me a job wearing clothes in her shop-front - a siver dress. I ended up married to her wealthy son but he disappeared/died in mysterious circumstance which I may have been involved in.
The next thing I can remember is sitting in some sort of small and shabby work premises - a laundrette/taxi-office/garage? It was smokey. Frank Black from the pixies was there, and I thought pleasedly to myself that I could ingratiate myself with him due to my manipulative talents. He was very interested. I think then it cut to a fair-ground or similar place. A spotty boy with glasses who was some sort of non-dangerous stalker was telling me that everyone was after me and I would need to get away. He half-heartedly made some sort of suggestion that I leave with him but also showed me a newspaper article in which Mick Jagger was reminicing about some hedonistic times passed we had been involved in together, and commenting how much he would like to see me. I was then in a shopping centre with guards arriving at the doors to capture me. The spotty boy or some other person who I saw as a subordinate told me to climb out of the window, and I did.
I was then arriving at the airport, but realised I had no money to get a ticket to fly to America (which was where I was going, to hide out with Mick Jagger). There was a brown room with phones in, and I went to a phone booth and made a reverse charge call to America. I asked an operator to put me through to Mick Jagger. She said "who shall I say is calling?" and I said "Rhiannon - it's Rhiannon Lockley but he doesn't know my married name so just say Rhiannon" (Could not remember my maiden name, which was not Beaumont in the dream as I wasn't me, just someone with the same name). Mick answered and asked me in an amused way where I was and how I had got there. He was amused that I had not arrived at the airport behind a string of white horses "like in the old days". I realised that Mick would not pay my plane ticket if he thought I was desperate (he would lose interest) so I tried to nonchalently ask him about sending his private jet for me, which ended up with me talking in a really stupid fake american accent. There was a big pause and I thought in a panic that he had hung up. I asked if he was still there. After a pause he replied that he was thinking about needing a shave and some other person (who I think I knew in the dream) was advising against letting me come.
Then I woke up!
V v v v bizarre.
It started out that I was Tracey Barlow (character in UK soap opera). There was no link to the Charlie Stubbs murder, but for some reason I had done something else bad which meant I had to get as far away from Ken and Deirdre as possible. I got on a boat to Ireland - somehow the water around me was indoors as well as the boat, and it was dark. There was lots of old people. I was worried Ken would catch the boat but he didn't.
Then I got to Ireland. I don't think I was Tracey Barlow any more but some similarly machiavellian character. I decided I had to find some sort of shabby apartment to live in - it wouldn't matter what it was like as I would sleep/manipulate my way into nicer digs. I walked through a dark sea-front (again somehow indoors and outdoors at the same time) shouting to the shop-keepers that I needed a job. An asian woman offered me a job wearing clothes in her shop-front - a siver dress. I ended up married to her wealthy son but he disappeared/died in mysterious circumstance which I may have been involved in.
The next thing I can remember is sitting in some sort of small and shabby work premises - a laundrette/taxi-office/garage? It was smokey. Frank Black from the pixies was there, and I thought pleasedly to myself that I could ingratiate myself with him due to my manipulative talents. He was very interested. I think then it cut to a fair-ground or similar place. A spotty boy with glasses who was some sort of non-dangerous stalker was telling me that everyone was after me and I would need to get away. He half-heartedly made some sort of suggestion that I leave with him but also showed me a newspaper article in which Mick Jagger was reminicing about some hedonistic times passed we had been involved in together, and commenting how much he would like to see me. I was then in a shopping centre with guards arriving at the doors to capture me. The spotty boy or some other person who I saw as a subordinate told me to climb out of the window, and I did.
I was then arriving at the airport, but realised I had no money to get a ticket to fly to America (which was where I was going, to hide out with Mick Jagger). There was a brown room with phones in, and I went to a phone booth and made a reverse charge call to America. I asked an operator to put me through to Mick Jagger. She said "who shall I say is calling?" and I said "Rhiannon - it's Rhiannon Lockley but he doesn't know my married name so just say Rhiannon" (Could not remember my maiden name, which was not Beaumont in the dream as I wasn't me, just someone with the same name). Mick answered and asked me in an amused way where I was and how I had got there. He was amused that I had not arrived at the airport behind a string of white horses "like in the old days". I realised that Mick would not pay my plane ticket if he thought I was desperate (he would lose interest) so I tried to nonchalently ask him about sending his private jet for me, which ended up with me talking in a really stupid fake american accent. There was a big pause and I thought in a panic that he had hung up. I asked if he was still there. After a pause he replied that he was thinking about needing a shave and some other person (who I think I knew in the dream) was advising against letting me come.
Then I woke up!
V v v v bizarre.