My recurring nightmare involves wandering around an empty house trying all the doors which are locked, but when I get to the last door I know it's unlocked but I'm afraid to open it. I have this dream a couple of times a year.
I'm usually trussed up in a pink tutu amongst a troupe of ballet dancers in perfect step, trying desperately to keep up, but, to the amusement of the audience, always a few steps behind :-)
One I used to have occasionally was about football. I was running down the right wing on to a pass but could never, ever, EVER quite reach it, and it all happened in slow motion. And why the right wing? I could no more cross a ball with my right foot than I could speak fluent Basque. It was for standing on. Not a very good footballer.
(nights) I wouldn't worry if I were you, it's probably just an irrational fear of your life slipping away followed by eternity in a cold dark hole in the ground, while the people you knew and loved, move in like jackels to pick over the remains of your life. Personally, I like to bear in mind what Hume said, which goes something like "don't try making sense of it all, just go and play pool instead."
I keep dreaming about being on a train, and desperately trying to get somewhere, and it’s always very stressful. In the last one, my mum and I managed to avoid the conductor and didn’t even pay for our tickets by running along the train the whole trip. My cat was in one of the carriages and looked rather surprised as I pelted past her. No-one else was bothered, though.
Oh, I get those too - assorted on-the-wrong-train or missed-the-connection dreams. Mind you that happens often in real life, so no great mystery there.
I don't have train dreams... is that because I don't travel by train? Or am I emotionally disabled in some way? I do have driving dreams from time to time - and my late father is sometimes a passenger, which is nice.
I used to have loads of train dreams, but they eventually finished. Often I was waiting for a train, or stopping a train that was running, or trying to get off a moving train. Also lots of lift dreams, where they would malfunction or catch fire. I've been stuck in plenty of lifts in real life, but it's never frightened me, I think it's just a mental symbol for feeling stuck in an awkward situation in life. Similar with the trains. (None of that was my recurring nightmare, though, but that's a bit odd even for here.) Still, enough about my insanity.
I've never had a train dream. We don't use them much on the west coast of the States. I've had pen's teeth dream countless times, and the other night I dreamed I was searching for treasure in a lost tomb. I fell through a trap floor and got bit by a snake.
Strangely enough I had the treasure dream the other night, but rather than get bitten by a snake I discovered the treasure at the top of a pyramid. It was Gilette razors. Tch, even my dreams are sponsored now.
[Pooks] thanks :-) - not wishing to tempt fate but the latest few should all have 'bravo' stamped on them. Have you visited the Limerick games in the other two servers yet?
[Darren] Your train dreams - did they stop around the time of the Beeching report? [teeth] Not had that one for a while - used to get it a lot. Incredibly vivid - the dream was that I was lying in bed, trying to get to sleep, with my teeth falling out like toppling dominoes. The segue between the dream and waking to feel in my mouth was imperceptible. I had understood it to mean nothing more specific than insecurity; which I would put my hand up to at the time.
(Chalky) Just spent the last hour in absolute tears, just what I needed. I am currently having too much of a good thing in my neck of the woods. I spent all summer waiting for it to rain so I could go kayaking, guess what, my local river has in the space of a week, gone from a stagnant trickle to a grade 5 raging monster, with holes and stoppers that would eat you alive if you got too near. Hoo hum.
I give up. Men are a complete mystery. Why would anyone approach you, chat you up (yeah, online, I admit), call you when you least expect it, then invite you out on a date, only to stand you up without a word? I sat in the bar of I bet Berkhamstead's Cafe Rouge drinking coke for half an hour, feeling like an idiot. I bet the patron has seen it a thousand times... At least I have the satisfaction of knowing I'm not the one who acted like a jerk.
[Darren] ;-) [pen] We're not all complete prats; I can only apologise for those that are, and are bad enough not to apologise for themselves. The guy in question - he isn't the patron of Cafe Rouge in Berkhamsted, is he?
[Wol] He's not the patron, no... and thanks :o) I think I wrote that in a kind of early-morning rage. *sigh* Onwards and upwards... salsa dancing tonight. At least if anyone does you wrong at salsa dancing, they're right there in front of you and you can kick their shins.
Anyone want to hear about salsa dancing? I'm going to tell you anyway. It was brilliant! My first time, and the men were still hopeless - they're supposed to lead, and either I'm not listening carefully enough or they're too scared to be firm and lead properly. I suspect it might be my fault... mwahahaha!
(pen) Most men, and especially musicians, can't dance unless they're pissed, and don't actually like it, except as a grope. But some can, and I wish you well. :-)
I can't dance unless it's a really grinding techno beat. at which point it doesn't matter. however I echo Rosie when I say that some men (including me) enjoy dancing 'properly', and I'm sure you will find one. but you can't have me for several reasons, the most important of which being that an ocean separates us. *sigh*.
I'm with Rosie, penelope. I have not had a dancing lesson in my life to date. I also suspect that I am one of a majority of males in that situation. Years ago, as a teenager, I looked at some books on the subject (well, one) which was full of black and white footprints. I gave up. When I watch accomplished dancers - and I'm not speaking of those 'professionals' who trip the light fantastic with fixed grins on their faces - I can see that many people gain much pleasure from the exercise. You are now allowed to address me as Wallflower.
Please, chaps, don't give up. Dancing with a man leading is one of the nicest things I've done for a long time. They're itching for more men to join in, and if you just take a deep breath and dive in with a beginner's class (which is what I did last night), follow the teacher for an hour - which is all enjoyable - you'll be rewarded with a floor full of ladies to choose from. It's not hard, you just have to count: one, two, three... five, six, seven... and practice. The music is great, they hand out flyers for more events while you're there - I could dance four nights a week without a permanent partner and without driving too far at all if I wanted - and they even sell beer there. What more could you want? My motivations for dancing? To get out of the house, perhaps find a nice man to dance with more than once, and to get a smaller arse!
Oh, and the mystery of the date-standing-me-up on Sunday night has been explained. He was locked up in a police cell for the weekend when the officers returning his escaped dog realised there was a warrant for his arrest after previously being charged with being drunk in charge of a vehicle when he slept in the car after a wedding month ago. He got the date of his magistrate's court appearance wrong and failed to attend, so was locked up on Saturday afternoon, and had to wait there until a court appearance on Monday. I don't think you could make it up. I could make a fortune from writing a newspaper column about my experiences as a single woman... or has it already been done?
(Pen) Still, it could have been worse, he might have actually turned up for the date. I can't imagine what kind of trouble you would have ended up in, probably something to do with drunken dogs wearing tutu's!!!
[pen] My wife used to go to Salsa in Berkhamsted, but hasn't been for a while. No way I'd go with her - one of the benefits of being married is that I don't feel compelled to dance very often these days. I dare say that if we ever got divorced or separated I'd have to once again suffer the terpsichorean muse - but until then I stay seated and quaff the vino instead.
[penelope] Not that I'm saying you're over 75 (on the contrary, I've always considered you to be something of a pin-up around these parts) but at least you can see there are advantages to dancing.
[Darren] Thank you - the advantage to dancing is you know your dance partner isn't locked up... *blushs at the pin-up reference, but drains to a deathly pallor when she realises this could mean a dart-board pin-up*
[Blob] Hmmm. Mr Néa's view is that if he hadn't been married, he never would have had to dance - as it is, he had to dance the waltz at his weddings. Personally, I rather enjoy dancing provided it's with a guy who can lead. I don't dance very well, so the man has to be good at it.
I've noticed in the last few years, a growing tendancy to groan slightly when getting in and out of chairs, regardless of the previous evenings activities. I don't suppose this is something that's going to improve with age! The funny thing is, when I'm out on the river and especially when other people are egging me on, I do all kinds of crazy stunts, but when I get home, I do the old "wait till your my age" routine, so that my flatmate makes me a nice cuppa, Hee Hee.
[Pooksad] You are clearly starting to experience the hypocrisy of old age. This is also manufested in the desire to resort to adages ssuch as: "Don't do as I do, do as I say,", and "When I was young..." Keep a note of the symptoms.
Sorry it's been a while. Check the info page to read about posting links (you get a couple for free, at least until we start getting spammed again), Hidden texthiding text but not, note, HTML (yet) and the HTML rewriter that automatically Goods your Bad HTML. This is a work in progress, so feel free to point out where the dwimmery failed. I ran it on all 47000-odd existing moves, fewer than 100 of which caused big problems. The only thing that might catch you out is that if you put a paragraph in the middle of a bold move, only the first bit appears bold. I'm working on that.
Hurrah! I like the fact that everyone is now called Monica. It suits my new latin temperament, apart from the fact that tonight it was a bad lesson. Despite dancing A LOT, I got everything wrong and my deodorant failed. :o(