Tag Archives: sleep

Becky says things about …. dreams

Dearest listeners, I had a most peculiar dream the other night.

I dreamt I was wandering the corridors of my old school and came across a lady I used to know when I was a teenager. We had a little chat – an ‘Oh hi there, haven’t seen you in ages, how’s it going?’ sort of chat, all very normal – and then suddenly we were both standing in a pool of steaming water, completely naked.

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And as if that wasn’t startling enough, we then had a steamy naked hug. Not a sexy hug – this wasn’t The L Word, or anything – just a ‘Oh well, we’re in this steamy pool and we’re naked, we may as well have a hug’ hug.

And then I woke up.

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Listener, I cannot explain this dream. I haven’t seen this lady in well over a decade. Sure, she pops into my head to say hello every now and then, as most people from my past do from time to time, but why should she suddenly wander into my sleepy dreamy brain? And how did Dream Becky get from the corridor of my old school to a pool of steaming water? And – perhaps the most pressing question of all – why were we naked? Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy being naked as much as the next gal, but to suddenly get naked with a lady I haven’t seen for over 10 years seems a bit forward.

It wasn’t an unpleasant dream by any stretch of the imagination. The hug was a bit sweaty, but if anything it was nice to see her. I might give her a call and say hi.

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Isn’t the brain mad and wonderful? Confusing and sometimes terrifying, certainly, but what an occasionally brilliant place to be while you’re asleep! It is a rare treat when you have one of those excellent dreams that you try desperately to squeeze yourself back into when you feel yourself waking.

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Whilst wandering through a gothic cathedral in a recent dream, I stumbled across a smashingly good-looking chap in a Bond-y tuxedo, and we proceeded to do some rather compromising things behind the alter. It was, frankly, thrilling, and gloriously distasteful.

Unfortunately, just as things were getting really disgraceful we were interrupted by a man in a tall white hat, whom I can only assume was a dream pope.

And then I woke up.

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I’ve done so much more in dreams than in real life! I’ve rescued Jeremy Irons from falling out of a skyscraper window. I’ve explored a mystical underground realm with a team of Girl Guides and hidden from a foul subterranean monster (I can’t remember if I saved the Girl Guides – they may well have been eaten). I’ve been on stage with Liza Minnelli and performed a Western-style dance number before an audience of green people.

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It’s not all been exciting, though. I once dreamt I walked into my parents’ living room, stood in front of their DVD collection, selected a DVD, put it on the coffee table, then sat on the arm of the chair. I didn’t even watch the DVD. Just sat there. Waiting to wake up, I suppose.

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Then there was the time I dreamt there was no cutlery in the world, and I awoke confused and full of questions.

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Sometimes it’s taken a while for my dream to leave me. I once slid into consciousness with the phrase ‘All words are spoken upwards’ tumbling round my brain, and for a good five minutes I was convinced I’d stumbled across some profound linguistic revelation, then eventually realised that there was nothing profound about it and my head was full of nonsense.

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Then there are the bad dreams. The anxiety dreams.

The teeth dream.

O, the teeth dream.

Is there anything worse than the OH SO REAL feeling of your teeth wobbling, falling out one by one, and crumbling to dust in your mouth? Feeling the grit and the crunch, like a mouth full of gravel. The dread, the helplessness, then the absolute RELIEF when you wake and frantically feel all your teeth and realise you don’t have to call the emergency dentist.

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I suppose we just have to accept that when we’re asleep our brains do what the hell they want, and if that means ladies from our past strip off and give us steamy naked hugs, then so be it.

NB. Psychoanalysis of the abovementioned dreams is unnecessary, thank you very much. They have already been comprehensively logged in the book of Becky’s Incredibly Strange Nocturnal Brain Antics Volumes 1 – 67. 

 

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Becky says things about … nighttime worries

When you wake up in the middle of the night and start thinking about things, those things, no matter how menial and trivial, suddenly become

THE MOST IMPORTANT THINGS IN THE WORLD.

Fact.

Lying there in the dark, knowing that everyone else in the universe is fast asleep, is a prime time to start worrying. It’s awful. I am always waking up at around 4am, and I can guarantee that some stupid musing will enter my head and suddenly become the most terribly significant and worrying thing ever to occur to me.

The other night I woke up and started worrying that the way I take off my eye makeup – using a cotton wool pad – will make the skin around my eyes so baggy that by the time I’m 30 I’ll need reconstructive surgery to stop my lower lids from drooping down to my chin.

I genuinely worried about it. In my semi-conscious state, I worried for hours.

Oh my God, I should pat the cotton wool instead of rubbing it – you should NEVER rub your eyes, the skin is just so DELICATE, oh my God I’m going to look HIDEOUS….

Etcetera ectetera.

Recently I woke up at about 3.30am one Sunday and remembered we only had two eggs in the fridge.

OH MY GOD, WE BOTH LIKE TO HAVE TWO EGGS FOR BREAKFAST! ONE OF US WILL HAVE TO GO WITHOUT! OR JUST HAVE ONE EACH! OUR WHOLE DAY WILL BE RUINED!

Quick, think – what else do we have? Beans? Yes. Oh no wait – I’m not even sure we’ve got beans…. shit, did I use the last tin on Wednesday? Oh, hell. Potato waffles? But what’s the point of waffles if we’ve got nothing to put on them? Oh, God, have we even got MILK???? One of us will have to go to the garage, but what if it’s raining? What if it is raining. I hate rain. I wish it would stop raining. My life is being ruined by the rain, my vitamin D levels are dangerously low, I seriously think I’m developing seasonal affective disorder….

And so on and so on and so on.

I don’t just worry about trivial things. Oh no. One night I became seriously concerned about global warming, and lay half awake fretting that the world was going to combust or melt, and we’d all die terrible deaths, and what’s the point of anything, why are we even bothering, why are we here, why aren’t people doing more to save the planet, why are people such inconsiderate ARSEHOLES etc etc etc.

Maybe it’s something to do with it being dark – maybe it’s because we’re half asleep and our brain’s not working properly, maybe it’s a lack of anyone awake to tell us to SHUT THE HELL UP AND GO SLEEP, but waking up to worry in the middle of the night is bloody knackering.

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