Date with a Creek

So, MS is officially the most boring disease in the world. Not only does it mean that I'm forced to spend all day indoors sitting on my arse but also that my fingers are too numb to do any writing! How unfair is that??

Ok, now that my slightly uncomfortable reason for the lack of updating is out there, let's move on.

How do you know when you've spent far too much time watching Jonathan Creek? When you start dreaming about Alan Davies is how.

Dream starts in a festival ground, when everyone is finishing up ready for opening. It's early afternoon, lovely and quiet, with very few people around. (Yes I'm aware this is entirely unrealistic but hey, it's MY dream). JC and I are meandering through the grounds in that very awkward but exciting period at the beginning of a relationship. You know, when you both know the other likes you but you're waiting for the first move to be made.

We're happily wandering, talking about little nonsense things, with the occasional 'accidental' brush against the other's arm etc, etc, when some bloke wanders up to ask me out. I casually tell him I'm not interested, barely breaking off my conversation, and carry on walking.

This happens a couple more times, by which time I'm thinking that this has never happened before and wondering what's going on. It does have the affect of JC finally taking my hand and we wander over to a picnic table to sit down, me grinning like a schoolgirl.

JC is due on stage in a few hours so I suggest he goes upstairs for a rest. He looks at me coyly and asks if I will come up and help him to bed. I say to him, in a husky voice with a seductive waggle of the eyebrows, 'well, that depends if you want to get any sleep.'

And then I wake up. Before we get to the good stuff. Dammit.

Blackadder lives

So, last night I dreamt I was boinking Rowan Atkinson. Nuff said
Though I should add that it was at least not in his incarnation as Mr Bean. Phew, I might have had to worry about myself otherwise!

Just Desserts

Last night's dream was tastebud tingling, mmmmmmmm.

So, I was working at some crappy job or other when I looked out my window and saw that my mum had opened up a shop called 'Just Desserts'.
I was a little irritated at first that she had chosen to open it where I live as opposed to where she lived (50 miles away) but I went over to check it out.
It was a tiny little place but filled with hand made sweets and chocolates. Tantalising little stacks of them on glass trays behind glass counters, that seemed to be seductively begging you to try them.
I was very excited by this and thought it would be a good place for me to work since I could make sweet treats too.
My mum kept dithering over whether I could have a job and I was getting more antsy everyday, when (after a few days) I looked out my window again to see she had taken someone on! I was highly unamused by this so I stomped on over to the shop to find out just who this usurper was.
It turned out she was just some random girl who'd moved into town, seen the shop and decided she wanted to work there. My mum didn't even know her and hadn't actually given her the job, the girl had just started working! Very bizarre. And I was a bit confused as to why why mum didn't just tell her to go if she didn't want her there.
Anyhoo, I was staring longingly at the chocolates again and thinking that I could make truffles and honeycomb that would go nicely on one of those glass trays, if only I could make the girl leave, when I woke up.
I swear I was actually salivating too! Maybe my tastebuds just couldn't take it and woke me up so I'd give them something to eat. :)

Babydaddy

Last night's dream was terribly interesting, and possibly proof that I have been spending way too much time online.

I was in my old home town, on the estate where I grew up, sitting at a table (which doesn't exist) in the local shop doing some writing. My old friend C, whom I hadn't seen for ages, wandered in and I saw she was heavily pregnant. I invited her to sit down, we spent a few minutes having a chat and then I asked the inevitable question, 'Who's the daddy?'
I was rather surprised to say the least when she told me it was Robert Pattinson, who'd been in town a few months previous shooting a film. She told me that she was trying to track him down but couldn't get hold of him so I offered to help.
We left the shop and wandered down past the old (but still called new) flats, reminiscing about the old days when the flats were still being built.
C took me along some old alleyway that I didn't recognise but which led out into the main shopping street. I thought it was a bit peculiar that we would be looking for him in town since he obviously wasn't here anymore, so we left and C took me along another unfamiliar alley. This one led through a quarry and I thought how odd it was that I didn't recognise any of these places despite the fact that I'd lived here all my life.
When we came out of the alley we were on a strange street that I soon realised was London. (This did not seem odd to me despite the fact that hometown is 250 odd miles away from London.)
I walked into the restaurant where he was eating, (by this time I was on my own, C having disappeared without notice) and sat down to tell him why I was there. As I talked he grew more and more agitated, not because of what I was saying but because the restaurant walls were made of glass and hundreds of fangirls outside had spotted him and started screaming. Me and his manager tried to disguise him, which of course didn't work since we were doing it right in front of screaming girls, so I led everyone through a leather door in the wall.
This opened out into a boardroom so I once again stated what I was there for, saying that C didn't want anything from him, she just wanted him to know about it so that he could be involved if he wanted to.
Whilst he was digesting this, the scene changed to a cinema. I was there with RP and someone else who was faceless and nameless, to watch the film that R had shot in hometown. I had seen a trailer for it previously and got stupidly excited, pointing out all the places I knew, like where I did my paper round, where I used to play in the park, where my friends lived etc.
When we arrived at the cinema we had to fill out a form to be admitted, hand it to the manager, who then filled in a form to give back to us, which we had to give to the usher. I thought this was a bit of a longwinded way to do things.
RP and nameless companion got their forms, but the manager couldn't seem to see me until the others had already got their popcorn and were waiting.
I handed her my form but when she tried to fill in the form to give back to me, she got all confused and couldn't work out what she was supposed to write. Then she starting talking about N (another old friend) and that she would have to make me an appointment but she didn't know when he was free. I was just starting to get a bit ratty when the phone rang and woke me up.

Note to self: painkillers make for very interesting dreams!

Shenanigans

So last night I dreamt about...something that would make a really good book. Or film. So I'm not going to tell you in case you nick it. Tee hee :)

Escape from School.

B was trying to get out of going to school by pretending to be sick. I of course was having none of this and finally managed to get him out the door at 10am and walked him to bus stop to make sure he went.
Then, at the school, his teacher called me in and accused me of being on drugs! I stomped out indignantly, outraged at being accused and decided I wanted to leave the school without being seen. So I went along to the library and spoke to my old History teacher who told me to climb up on a particular pile of books and escape through a hole in the ceiling.
And all the time I was escaping I was thinking that they weren't real librarians because real librarians would NEVER tell me to climb on books!!

Saturday Night Madness

Even my dream self knew Saturday's dream was a little bit strange - I pitched up at uni for a faculty meeting, to be told that they had changed the timetable. All the professors were looking rather pleased with themselves when they told us that actually, our timetables weren't really that difficult, and we wouldn't have all that much to do. Feeeling this was a little strange, I looked around the room only to see half the cast of Harry Potter there as well. Now I knew this was strange.
I walked out of the meeting, out into the dark, stormy night when a professor came running after me to tell me they had forgotten to tell me my blood type - O positive. (I have no idea whether this is really my blood type). Feeling rather non-plussed by this, I wondered why the uni would need my blood type and also thought it was amazing they had managed to get it without the use of any needles.

Segue into:

I was in one of those bits and bobs shops that sell absolutely everything, looking for a paperback copy of a Harry Potter book. The shop was doing a buy-one-get-one-free sale so I picked up a copy of some cheesy novel - after all, I wasn't technically buying it so it didn't count.
When I got home and started reading the HP, I discovered that some of the pages were missing. I was completely outraged by this and stomped off to the shop demanding a refund. The shop assistant was actually an old college lecturer of mine and the king of sarcasm and he refused to believe that there was anything wrong with the book. So I opened it up and waved it in his face to show him where the missing pages were. He finally, with much huffing and puffing, gave me a refund but then said that I owed him 5p cos of the free book and the 20% off deal. Even my dream self couldn't be doing with maths stuff, so I threw the 5p at him and stomped out.

'Nother segue:

Back home in my flat: I was flitting about doing the housework (which happens all the time obviously) when the doorbell went. B answered it and just stood there, being all stuttery like he couldn't work out what to say. I had gone into B's room and couldn't see who was at the door so I just yelled to see who it was. No answer. I walked into the living room and to my shock and horror, ex-friend K was sitting there, having pushed his way in. My first thought was horrified - I had moved since the last time I saw K, how had he found out where I lived?
Demanding to know how he knew where I lived and what he was doing there, K started shouting about wanting to know why I wouldn't speak to him anymore. I was so angry that he would dare shout at me in my own home, that I lost my temper and, shouting at the top of my lungs, told him exactly why I wasn't talking to him anymore and then threw him out the door.
Then I went on Facebook to write on my status that I would kill whoever had given him my address.
Even my dream self is addicted to Facebook!!!