What follows is all true.
Throughout my life, I never remembered my dreams unless I was suddenly woken up while having one – which, in the past, maybe happened once every couple of years. I always thought this was a sad loss. I like surrealism and thought dreams must be wonderfully and literally fantastic.
This has changed.
Because I have some current calcium and kidney problems, I have not had a full night’s sleep since June 2020.
I wake up every hour throughout the night, totally dehydrated inside my mouth. I have to drink water to rehydrate.
Quite often this waking-up happens while I am in mid-dream. So I temporarily remember my dream.
By morning though, while I know that I woke up when dreaming, I have forgotten the actual details of the dream.
Most of my dreams are about organising events or performances.
Last night, when I woke up in mid-dream, I muttered the details onto my iPhone – to remember.
According to that muttered memory:
The new owners of Penguin Books messed it up and were not making the right money, so they thought they would get more publicity by arranging daily horse races on Regent Street in London. Some of the races would be open to amateurs.
I watched some of the rehearsals for the races, with horses chasing each other round the curve of Regent Street.
And I dreamt about Penguin Books’ boardroom discussions on the practicality of staging the horse races…
Then I woke up in mid-discussion and so I don’t know the outcome.
Life is a bitch.
That actually IS what my dream was about, though I now feel obliged – oh yes I certainly do – to suggest that the winner of the main race could have been a night mare.
Let us all hope I don’t record another dream soon and won’t feel so obliged in future.