Trapped inside

I told a couple of friends this dream and they looked at me like I was mad. They might be right.

I was round at my sister in law's mum's house, with her and my niece and we were getting ready to leave and go to town. I got to the front door, then realised that my knee high, lace up boots had come undone.
I went back to the living room, did them back up, then walked back to the front door. Only to see that they had come undone again.
Sighing, I went back, laced them back up and walked to the front door again.
Then, I saw that the tongue on the right boot had had come loose and was flapping around. So once again, I went back to the living room, sat down and tucked it back in. Double checking that everything was right, I went to the door again.
This time, the tongue on the right boot had grown so it was sitting right under my tummy and was rock hard so I couldn't move properly.
Massively frustrated, I went back to the living room to try and sort it out. But when I got there, everything was normal.

I went back to the front door, only to find myself back in the living room, completely naked.
I started panicking, desperately trying to find my clothes before anyone came in. I was on my knees, frantically searching for my underwear when I woke up.

Diagnosis dinner

There's not much to this particular dream but it was so odd that it had to be on here.

Here goes: Me and my stepmum were having cookery lessons from Dick Van Dyke, in his Diagnosis Murder persona.

That's it. Told you it was odd

A visit to Albuquerque

Albuquerque is somewhere I have always wanted to visit. Ever since I was a teenager and I read Lois Duncan's 'The Eyes of Karen Connors', I wanted to go and see the city that she written about.

As an adult, I became facebook friends with a few people who live there. Their descriptions and pictures only increased my desire to visit. And last night I did! In a dream anyway

I flew in to visit my friends S & C, very excited to finally be in the place I had wanted to visit for so long. The weather was perfect; all blue skies and sunshine, and we decided to go out and visit the town.

Leaving the house, we walked a little way, then to my surprise, we came to a river and S said we would boat it in from there. Turned out the town was like Venice, with rivers all through it, no streets at all!. I was more than a little surprised as I had not read anything about this; nowhere in all my readings or any pictures had there been rivers or any mention that the town could only be navigated by boat.

Nonetheless, I climbed aboard a strange boat that was an odd mix of sailboat and canoe, and we set off. It was a nice journey - the river was wide and smooth, the scenery was gorgeous and I chatted away with S & C and their two kids.

After a while, we decided to go to a restaurant for some dessert. We pulled up alongside one, moored up and climbed up on to the dock. I don't remember the name of the restaurant, just that it seemed quite posh. The desserts were lined up in tubs inside a cabinet, the way icecream is at the cinema. It was very warm out and I quite fancied some icecream to cool off a little.

The desserts all looked a bit strange, kind of spongy and odd combinations of colours - there was one that looked like chocolate pudding but with ketchup - and there were no names to show what any of them were. This didn't seem to bother anyone else; they picked up a bowl, then used a huge scoop that actually looked more like the pyrex jug I use for gravy, scooped up what they wanted and went to sit down.

I am quite fussy over flavours, so I asked the girl behind the counter what each of them were. The brown spongy one was indeed chocolate pudding with ketchup. I was quite revolted over this but no-one else seemed to share this. I asked about another that looked like it might be some sort of mixed fruit, only to be told that it was [something I can't remember] with grey pheasant. Now I was really revolted.

I couldn't understand how anyone could eat such gross things, and I was reflecting with confusion that so far, Albuquerque was nothing like I had seen or read about, and wondering how that could be, when I woke up.

An interesting dream to say the least!

Runaway Bride

I dreatm that I announced to my family that I wanted to get married. The next thing I knew, it was my wedding day and I was marrying a girl named Trish that I went to primary school with. It was in a church, which I didn't like, there were 5 bridesmaids, none of whom I knew and they were wearing pink dresses, carrying little wicker baskets with pink flowers. There was a row of musicians holding trombones, which I also didn't want and to top it off, I didn't even have an engagement ring.

As soon as I noticed this, my cousin called me over to see Trish, who then gave me a rather ugly gold ring which had lost its stone. She said she would replace it soon, with a pink diamond, to which I rebelliously told her I wanted a red garnet. Then I left, saying I needed to go to the bathroom.

So there I am, in the bathroom, suddenly realising I'm wearing this poofy white dress with massive veil. I started to panic and realised that I didn't want any of this, that I should have been allowed to plan my own wedding and have the colours and dresses I wanted, not what someone else wanted. And I didn't want to marry Trish!

At that point, a bit of reality inserted itself. I knew that I hadn't wanted to get married the first time (which is true), that I should have cancelled it, even though it was the last minute (also true) and that when I had confessed this to my parents many years after the divorce, telling them that I hadn't had the guts because of all the money they had spent, they had said that wouldn't have mattered (not entirely sure if this is true, but I think it might be).

Remembering this, I decided that surely they would understand this time if I called it all of. Then I looked at my watch, saw it was 11.30 and realised I didn't have time to ring and call it off. So I decided to just make a run for it.

I was just trying to work out how I could escape without anyone seeing me, and thinking that it was very like the scene in Smokey and the Bandit when Sally Field escapes in her wedding dress, when I woke up.

Took me a minute to realise that I wasn't getting married with a bunch of pink bridesmaids, and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Holiday blues

THis dream is possibly one of the weirdest I've had - and that's saying something! Started with me and my friend N at an unnamed London airport, waiting to catch a flight to Istanbul. I was very panicky, because I didn't know where anything was, I kept thinking that I had lost my tickets, was trying to find somewhere to have a smoke and the loos had weird symbols on them that I couldn't understand so I walked into the men's by mistake. Then, to make things worse, the flight was delayed. First by 20 minutes, then it kept creeping up until it was an hour. But it was hard trying to find out what was going on and I was terrified I might miss the flight. Then, for some reason, I decided to check on what B was up to. As is possible in dreamland, I suddenly appeared where he was - in a small boat in shark infested waters somewhere in the Indian Ocean. This had me even more panicky, especially when someone told me that part of the fun was that they were going into the water to ride on a whale, called a 'ridge'. I went mental and told him that there was no way I was going to allow him to ride a whale, nor to go into the sea that was full of sharks. Then I thought that the boat was far too small and flimsy to withstand a shark attack and demanded to see the skipper. He was a young kid, no older than B and I thought there was no possible way he could be qualified for this. So I demanded to see his qualifications, at which point he produced a small bit of paper, like a till receipt, covered in a foreign language that I couldn't understand. I was yelling that there was no way this was real and did not prove that he was qualified, all the time worried that sharks would attack, that B would die or be maimed and that I would miss my flight to Istanbul. Even though I had decided I didn't really want to go anyway. Next thing, I was back in the airport. The plane had arrived and people were being ushered onto it, while airport staff were walking around offering refunds to people who didn't want to go on it now because it was so late. I was frantically trying to find someone because I wanted a refund and to get back to get B out that boat, but the man I eventually managed to find told me I wasn't eligible for a refund. I was so anxious by then, I was practically in tears but I kept being pushed onto the plane. N was saying how much she was looking forward to seeing Istanbul, completely unaware of anything else happening. I was panicking and screaming that I didn't want to get on the plane, I just wanted to leave, when I woke up. Took me a good half an hour to stop feeling anxious!

Breaking Dawn: A Prophecy

Yes you read that right. Breaking Dawn is a prophecy. Or at least it was in this particular dream of mine. I was living in West Bay, hanging on the green by the pub one ordinary afternoon. Then I was kidnapped by extreme Twi hards. They thought that Breaking Dawn was a prophecy and it was their duty to see that it came true. In it, there was another wedding, between Charlie Swan (father of the wet and extremely irritating 'heroine' of the Twilight series), and a woman whose identity I did not know. These Twihards had decided that I was that woman and therefore it was my destiny to marry Charlie Swan. Or rather, the man they had decided was the living embodiment of Charlie Swan. Utterly bewildered and wondering what the hell was going on, I tried to reason with my kidnappers - all women - and tell them that the book wasn't prophecy and why on earth would they think I would marry some man I didn't know just because they thought I should. I remember one woman looking at me with that fervent zeal in her eyes. You know the one, it's the same one that extremely religious people get when they're trying to convert you. Or the one that the student midwife gave me when she was telling me how fascinating it was being in the room when I gave birth. Anyway, my reasoning didn't work, she just gave me that look and exclaimed in a breathy voice about how this was an honour for me and how happy I was going to be. That did it for me; I jumped up, lost my temper and yelled that there was no way I was going to marry this man and that they were all a bunch of whackjobs. Then I stormed out. Clearly they hadn't thought that this would happen as the doors weren't locked so I just wrenched them open and walked out. Back down the Bay on the green, I was telling my friends what has happened, when all the Twihards walked past me, wearing an expression of rueful sadness mixed with bewilderment, like they couldn't believe what I had done. I turned to them and shouted that Breaking Dawn wasn't real. The one I had spoken to before looked at me and said ' I know it isn't real' in a voice that people use when they're giving a really lame comeback. Then she tossed her head with a sniff and told me I needed to get a job. I looked at her with bemusement, shook my head and turned back to my friends. Then woke up, wondering what on earth my brain was on.

The Vanishing Tattoo

I took the plunge yesterday and splurged on a new tattoo. It's a beautiful pentagram on my right wrist and I absolutely love it. Did not love the price of it though. I forgot to get them to quote me before they started doing it and only when I went to pay did I discover that it was £40. £40!. And I could have got it for £25 up at a different studio.
This must have seeped into my subconcious and come out in my dream last night.

I dreamt that I woke up and found that the ink had come off in scabs during the night. The only thing left was a faint purple dye that was only a tiny part of the original design. I was absolutely furious, so I stomped off down to the studio to see if I could get it redone. But apparently my skin rejected the ink, so anything else they put on would just slide off again.
So they gave me a cheque for £57 to cover the refund and apologies. Which I was quite happy with, I admit. Still muttering, I stomped off down to the bank to put the cheque, all the while thinking 'I knew I should have gone to Black Pearl!'

And the lesson is: always get a quote before you get tattooed.