Posted at 14:01 on 7 Jul 2009 by Pandora / Blake
I'm still recovering from my working holiday: building things out of wood in the outdoors for a week was rejuvenating for the soul, but tiring for the body. And the frantic admin involved in organising it all beforehand took its toll. I've been in the office a lot since I got back. Last night after work I was in bed by 7pm, and stayed there until nearly midday. It was awesome, and I got to enjoy that emotionally vivid type of dream peculiar to lie-ins, after you've already been woken once by the dawn (or, in my case, cat).
My dreams this morning involved:
- Twisted fairytale adventures in medieval castles, involving lots of hiding and chasing down spiral staircases.
- Sorting through boxes and boxes of old junk in one of the houses I used to live in (this is a recurring dream; I've moved house a lot). This time the junk included hundreds and hundreds of felt tip pens, and in my dream-wisdom I decided to test all of them to see if they worked.
- Discovering the collection of long knives and swords I'd hoarded during my adolescent sword fetish, and getting excited at the memory of penetrating myself with them.
- Cleaning all the blades, most of which were rusty, although they had beautiful decorations and velvet and leather sheaths. Then getting out a pack of condoms and intimately re-familiarising myself with them one by one.
Spiral towers, pens, and swords: Freud would have a field day. In actual fact I didn't have a teenage sword-fucking fetish, nor did I collect blades (although an ex-boyfriend did). Both are pure invention on the part of my subconscious, which has always been good at creating false memories to back up the random situations it puts me in.
I'm pleased that my dream-self is responsible about hygiene, although how the condoms didn't split on the sharp points I have no idea. It was a hot dream, in the way that random things can become erotic in dreams simply because your brain decides they are. However, now I'm awake I have no more desire to insert sharp metal things into myself than I did before I went to sleep. Sorry to disappoint, subconscious. You are still more perverted than me.