My brain hurts.
I woke with a jolt this morning just before 6am. I had been having a dream, a version of the perennial dream I have when my “to do” seems “too much”.
This time I was going on a trip, I think on a ferry. I was lined up to board when I realised I didn’t have my wallet. I had to return to my hotel room and check. But I had already handed in my key. And I would lose my place in the line for boarding. Possibly even miss the ferry. I actually remember, in my dream, contemplating the need for a wallet, money, cards, on my trip. I decided they were essential.
I went back to my room, a convoluted side trip in my dream which involved escalators and a ballroom. I still didn’t have my room key but somehow had the master key to all the rooms. I stealthily entered. There was my wallet, still on the bed. And my phone. Oh, I hadn’t realised that I didn’t have my phone too.
Lucky I had gone back. But then I remembered that ages ago I had booked a trip to Fiji. For next week. I had no accommodation. And I needed to lose some weight. A feeling of panic overwhelmed me. Such a lot to do, and I still have this trip to complete as well.
I woke up.
I don’t have a trip to Fiji next week – but I do have my daughter’s 21st birthday party. Which is still being organised because the little Princess is pulling all the strings and being a major Drama Queen. If it was just any ordinary birthday I would say, sorry, sweetie, you have pushed your luck. But 21sts are big. A rite of passage.
I am now receiving all info re the party from her dad, who better tolerates and negotiates these dramatic episodes.
Unfortunately for me, he also lives in a make believe world, one where fairies produce birthday cakes and clean houses and dinners for 30 at the swish of a glittery wand.
Meanwhile I am just taking my list one item at a time, wishing I did have a trip to Fiji next week for recovery, and counting to 10, to myself, a lot.
I can also tick update blog off today’s list.
BTW I do have highly complex dreams and usually can remember them in great detail. Poor Andrew usually has to suffer through my retelling of them.