Just for the record, here is a summary of recent dreams – for my own benefit apart from anything else.

I asked some ropey looking slappers in a pub if they wouldn’t mind moving because they were sitting in the seats belonging to an elderly lady and her daughter, who had gone to the loo. They gave me a mouthful of abuse and called over some bubble-haired scouser who asked me if I wanted a fight, and then pre-empted my response by kicking the shit out of me. That’s all that I can remember out that – apart from going back the next day to face up to the scouser, and chickening out and apologising.

Last night’s dream was another epic and the memory traces are beginning to weaken but this is what I remember.

We were on some sort of holiday. Me and a bunch of other people in their 20s and 30s. I didn’t really know them too well. One girl, who I hung around with a lot, started to get a bit too keen. I reminded her I was married and she started crying and telling me she loved me. Nice as she was, I didn’t feeling anything for her but friendship, and also didn’t feel that anyone could really fall in love after knowing someone for about thee days and so I got angry and told her so. For the rest of the dream she didn’t talk to me and just gave me dirty looks. I tried to rectify matters but she just blanked me.

We were all staying in a huge, splendid mansion house for the first few days. At one point we had to move to another place in this nice looking little village by the sea. There was something about the drive there and taking blankets and stuff…hmm. In the village I, and some guy with whom I was sharing a hotel room, got on a local bus to the beach – which was really scary. Imagine Croyden on sea…or macclesfield sur mere. Everything looked grey, except the sand in the car-park which was “Tennents Super” blue. The beach was in a large semicircular cove formed by a low cliff, on top of which were nightmarish blocks of flats. Many very wide, and low-rise like 1960s tenements. There were several very tall, thin spikey looking concrete buildings with ‘arms’ that made them look like cactuses. In the dream someone told me that they were even called cactuses and designed to make the sandy beach look like a desert. It was sunny, but the light was so grey and depressing, like looking through grey polarised sunglasses. There were children playing and people in deckchairs, but no-one was smiling. We left and walked back to the village, which was, on further inspection, not quite as picturesque as it had first appeared. It had a run-down, menacing feel. We ended up in somone’s house with some people who were engaged in some sort of violent feud with a guy down the road. From this point on it because a gritty, complicated BBC-2 drama and involved lots of people getting killed by each other then revenge killings and us trying to stay safe.
Then I woke up.