Monday, 16 April 2012

What A Day For A Daydream

OK not a daydream an actual dream.

A couple of days ago a colleague from work told me she had a very vivid dream about me. We were sitting in a Victorian style conservatory surrounded by cut glass objects and I was raging against my husband for selling them on ebay behind my back. I own very little cut glass, in fact I'm not keen on ornaments, too much dusting, we don't have a conservatory of any type and my colleague has never met my husband, who would never do such a thing. We both pondered the possible meaning of this dream and eventually gave up having absolutely no idea of it's meaning, if it means anything at all that is.

Now I've had a vivid dream, not involving any work colleagues, or indeed anyone I know, but it was so real I could actually smell and feel things. I was driving to work when I spotted a couple of filthy tramps on the side of the road. I stopped and offer them a lift, they wanted to go to Bedford, which is where I was heading so in they got. Now I never, ever pick up hitchhikers. They could be the cleanest, most respectable people in the world, they could be Lord Sugar and Prince Charles and I still wouldn't pick them up. I am very aware of how vulnerable I am in my current state of health and know that if anything happened I couldn't run out of trouble. Anyway back to the dream. These two, both male were hideous close up, they looked like the goblins in the Harry Potter films and they smelt even worse, I had to open the car windows. On top of that they were obnoxious. I cannot remember where on my route I picked them up but I think it was at the turning to Kempston Hardwick so it was a surprise to find myself driving through Flitwick, which I pass though long before reaching KH. Unable to stand my two companions any longer I pulled over at the village hall and ordered them out. Both refused as it wasn't Bedford and that's what I promised. I remember being angry but not afraid so I put my foot down and flew on to Bedford. I pulled into the car park outside of work and got them out of the car. The scene then changed to my back garden and these males were now holed up inside my garden shed refusing to come out. The shed had a sort of opening, like you get on roadside burger vans, and the tramps, now both wearing stab proof vests with police written across them were taunting me and threating to burn the shed down. Suddenly a red mist descended and I grabbed the one who was currently leaning out of the window swearing at me, and hauled him out of the window by his vest and threw him on the ground. Then I woke up sweating, breathless and with a racing heart. Strange or what? If anyone can tell what the hell it means please let me know.

I was calm again within ten minutes or so but can still remember the details, including that horrible smell, which is unusual for me as I never remember dreams.

Last week at work a colleague gave me a recipe for a lamb korma which he assured me was fabulous and not like your usual korma. Keen to give it a go I went through my cupboards to find I had everything I needed except the lamb. Isn't that just typical, you want to try something out and you don't have what you need to make it. A trip to Tesco later today will ensure I can give it a go tomorrow.

I changed my dressing today and at last the bleeding seems to have stopped and once again the site looks like it is healing over. I received a batch of different dressings which I'm trying out over the next few weeks to see if it makes a difference. They have only provided a different waterproof covering though and not the gauze that goes directly over the wound site itself so I'm not expecting much change. However if the new covering stops my skin from tearing and developing sore patches at least that will be some improvement.

Andrew has improved again and is feeling up to trying a cooked meal today, though smaller portions. Now that he is feeling better we've been through everything he ate on the Thursday before becoming ill. He didn't go out that day so there was nothing consumed outside the house. He slept late so did not have breakfast. I was home because of pain so I cooked up lunch of bacon, eggs, fried bread and beans, we all had the same only Andrew added a large blob of garlic mayonnaise from a new unopened jar to his. For tea he had some Riveta with nothing on it, as he was already feeling a bit queasy, and he went to bed early having nothing else but a glass of apple juice. After eliminating all other possibilities the finger of suspicion is pointing firmly at the garlic mayo. The jar is now in the bin and I won't be buying another for a while as Andrew is the only one who eats the stuff and not unsurprisingly he's gone off it.

This morning I gave the bathroom and the downstairs loo another bleaching but I think the danger is passed now and if it was the garlic mayo the risks were much less than if it had been a bug.

In the news the trial has started of Anders Behring Breivik who shot seventy seven young people enjoying a camping trip in Norway nine months ago. This man gave a fascist salute in court, wept and claimed he did it in 'self defence', acknowledged his actions then pleaded not guilty. A good deal of time before the trial was taken up with the powers that be trying to work out whether he was 'mad' or 'bad'. They decided he was 'bad' and so the trial is going ahead as though Breivik is totally sane. I find this remarkable as he clearly is not sane, well not in any definition of the word I know. And why can't someone be mad and bad? Why does it have to be one or the other. The argument is that all the planning and preparation he did shows someone who knew what he was doing. I agree but for me the question is 'why' did he do it? What drove him to think that a group of youngsters on a Christian camp were such a danger to him? In the end whether he was mad or bad won't make much difference, either way he is unlikely to see the outside of a prison ever again.

I have a packed day of TV watching ahead as I catch up on all the stuff I missed while in work. Being at home so often I have become addicted to Neighbours and now cannot bare to miss an episode so I record them all when I'm working to watch when I'm not. How awful is that? Still a little of what you fancy does you good as they say.