Generally, I’m not given to nightmares. Nor do I possess my family’s (well, my mother and sister’s) trait of emitting blood-curdling screams in the middle of the night.

When I dream, it’s usually rather random. For example, my recurring anxiety dream revolves around packing. Sometimes I’m on holiday and about to miss a flight; in more intense times there’s Gestapo at the door and I’m trying to choose my most treasured possessions… I’m a special person.
What I love is when reality clashes with dreams in a rather peculiar fashion. The other night, I dreamt I was in Southampton with friends (already weird, not been to that city in years) and needed to drive back to London. Some friends (my wise friend and her husband specifically) needed a lift to Winchester, so the idea was that I’d drive them there and drive on to London. Then reality kicked in – I realised that I’m still only a learner driver and therefore:
(i) I can’t drive without another driver in the car.
(ii) I can’t drive on motorways.
So, in my dream I’m panicking about how to get to London without breaking the law while also remembering that in my last lesson I still wasn’t that good at stopping properly… I re-told this dream to my driving instructor on Monday and he visibly shifted away from me in his seat, probably yet again wondering why he took me on as a pupil!

Then last night I had a dream that left me in a cold sweat and a heightened state of anxiety about a meeting I’ve got tomorrow (which incidentally, I wasn’t particularly concerned about). It involved a ferocious Bishop and an evil Archdeacon – eerily reminiscent of the Archdeacon in controversial comedy Rev. Oh, and my mother turned up too – very bizarre. I honestly couldn’t tell you what actually happened, but whatever it was it wasn’t pleasant. Who knew I’d ever end up having nightmares about members of the clergy? Clearly it’s what happens when you work for the church.

Who knows what will fill my dreams tonight, but please, no more nightmares, my nerves just can’t hack it.

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