What did you dream about last night?

I dreamt that a detective and I solved the case of a local man who'd been cheating at cards. Then we went for a walk in the park in the bright moonlight; I was worried about going out of sight of my house when it wasn't locked, but he used his police radio to tell his colleagues to keep an eye on it, and 'not to fob her off like you did with the last burglary'.

It's very unusual for authority figures to be friendly in my dreamscape - as others have remarked, when the police are in my dreams I'm usually on the run from them.

Congrats on not being pursued this time.

I've just woken up - I dreamed about sadly departing with mixed emotion, from my good friend on the Upper West Side, and walking up through Harlem into the Bronx to kill a few hours until I left New York.

Once there I found myself in possibly 1985 or thereabouts, surrounded by break dancers and flashing neon lights. It was great fun. I ran down a staircase (I think to escape a crack addict), and let myself out through the locked door an old department store.

Outside I found myself in London, on Bond Street. Walking round to Oxford Street I saw a beautiful flower shop with colourful displays all over the pavement. I set about choosing one of each colour, enjoying dappled sunlight, to have the perfect bunch.

I must say it's put me in a good mood. The last time I had a New York based dream, this same friend and I were drunk driving one of those ridiculously large American lorries across Manhattan to Brooklyn where we abandoned it.

Another dream featuring baked goods for me - I googled it and evidently it's a sign of affluence and the coming of great news. So that's nice.

This time I was at Pasticceria Marchesi, unable to choose what I wanted so I got four different things. Then it went up to five when the assistant told me that if you stuck two pastries together it only counted as one.

On the way home I was tempted by a brightly painted rowing boat filled with a fragrant curry, with a help yourself ladle. Just there, on the pavement for anyone to eat.

This place.

I couldn't remember that 1979 Strangers song that had a really ironic bit for the 'Songs that do that terrible Moon/June' rhyming Thread


Did post that strange Sid Vicious song with all the strings that apparently had a really cringe Moon/June/soon verse.

I had a dream last night about the Sea Devils.

That's all I remember, that the Sea Devils were in it.

Mere minutes ago I awoke from a dream where I was taking part as the winning candidate v the incumbent WH dweller in the coming American presidential debates. I was actually still making a very calm point about the fundamental role of government, in a deliberately honeyed and slightly husky tone, as I came to.

I've just woken up from a lovely nap which featured a dream of happily walking around Manhattan, specifically, up Madison Avenue. 

Will I ever again know such simple pleasures? 

Related to things New York, I'd like to see Citarella expand over here. They're a great treat to shop for groceries in. They are expanding in a limited way already and apparently looking for a strategy to increase that. Now found in Greenwich CT, and Hudson Yards*. A few London outposts would be much appreciated.

*I do very strongly dislike Hudson Yards, both visually and as a symbol of much that's wrong - both over there and over here. I think the space could've been used for a mixed community of affordable homes - key and creative workers whose careers are Manhattan based given priority, along with the sick and the old.

Just woken from a late afternoon/early evening nap, in which I had decided to swap my life as a Soho madam living over the shop, for retirement in a large detached house in Surrey with its own leisure complex. 

Just at the end there I was shown round a five bedroom leopard print themed home (with front garden entirely paved over) with a mock Tudor and neon lit steam room and an ancient Rome style swimming pool.

I was on the top deck of a bus, which took off, for a destination unknown. I tried to get down the stairs to find out, without falling off the platform and into freefall, but the tilt was so pronounced that would've been a fatal error. I tried to shout for help but my voice wouldn't work, and trying harder to project it made it choke me.

Fighting off severe pain and wondering whether it was lung cancer or Covid-19, I accepted an invitation for a night out. A lift was arranged...

Greta Thunberg was driving a minibus packed with people, to a restaurant in a hotel at Gatwick - badly, as a learner, which we all laughed about as she tried to concentrate on the road. In the hotel I saw my nan and grandad dining and thought they must be going on holiday. As humidity had comprehensively destroyed my hairstyle, and I remembered I was homeless, I went to their house to break in for a long hot shower. 

The bus to the house was filled with pearly kings and queens whose noisy celebration of something ruined my jealous contemplation of all the houses lining a mountain we were ascending as the engines, struggled against the steepness. 

After a meal in the garden, a chat with the neighbours over the fence, and after I'd trashed the house for fun, I went upstairs for my shower. As I waited for the water to become roasting hot I heard them coming home, leading to the horrible conclusion they'd been at Gatwick because they were on their way home, not leaving. What to do? What to do? What to do? Sh*t. That's when I woke up.

That's was absolutely horrible.

I dreamt I got a job, working at home, putting the topping on pizzas, ready for delivery.

And I was terrible at it.

I kept getting it wrong, putting the wrong topping on, forgetting what the order was and not being able to work the machine I was supposed to put the pizza under after applying the topping.

Last item on my oneiric schedule last night was an incredibly disturbing, sombre dream about children trapped on a farm, being menaced by an animated walking house

I don't eat sweet things much, but I always have a rhubarb+custard after my coffee. Yesterday I ran out, and had to resort to making a slice of toast and marmalade. But that obviously wasn't enough, because last night I dreamt I was stuffing myself with biscuits, cakes, pies, tarts and Toblerones. Completely out of character.

I've has had some rum 'uns of recent.

Featuring (in no particular order or discernible narrative form):

1) A budding erotic affair with Paralympian Ellie Simmonds.
2) Being framed for murder whilst already in prison.
3) Being show pictures of my dead Dad with an axe lodged in his head.
4) Finding myself on the other side of the world and having to get home by flying into the heavens at night and descending back down when I could see the lights of London from space.
5) Being on the tube with an old friend who, after many years of estrangement now looked like Tanita Tikaram.
6) Being held captive by some kind of itinerant torture cult.

etc...

4 and 5 are excellent dream choices, well done.

I was homeless in Kazakhstan, and each day was filled with travelling to the next village to find a sheltered spot to sleep that night, so the police in the last village wouldn't lock me up and torture me.