Re. a return to childhood in dreams...

Is anyone out there interested in my dream diary? There was no interest in my thoughts about Mark E. Smith, my last blog, which plateaued at 9 views (at least one of them was me). So I can’t really hope that my dreams will fascinate the wide public. Nevertheless… 

I was naked and running pell-mell for home (this from a week or so ago). The people I passed were unconcerned. They were far too jaded to bother about a naked man. Nakedness is even at the boundaries of social acceptability in some circumstances. But in my dream I was self-conscious and uncomfortable. I happened to be passing very near my childhood home, so I thought, I’ll pop in and put some clothes on and everything will be alright. I raced down a back alley I recognised (gated in real life, but open in my dream, as in my childhood). I was very nearly there when a terrible thought struck me: “Where are my keys?”

I think everybody in the world must have had this dream or a variation of it. I lay awake and brooded on it awhile, and when I went back to sleep I had a dream which treated of the same themes, but was far too baroque and unreal to describe here.  

And then last night I dreamed I was back in primary school. Those of us who hadn’t yet eaten were told to put up our hands. (There was a crisis in the school canteen, presumably.) I raised my hand, not feeling particularly hungry or aggrieved, but privately hoping that we might be sent home. But then the parents of the children who had already eaten rounded on those of us who had gone without, and remonstrated with us as if was our fault, and the scene got very ugly indeed. It was a vivid dream, though I have no recollection of any such incident in life. The gap of about a minute between the teacher saying a thing and my comprehension was a very lifelike detail, and something I’d completely forgotten about.  


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