I had a dream… or a sequence of dreams… or one dream which repeated, but with a completely different dream stuck in the middle of the recurring dream. Unlike Martin Luther King Jr. I was not giving one of the most important speeches of the 20th Century, setting out my aspirations that will change the way in which we view our reality. O to be half as good as that Gentleman at expressing myself. And unlike Dr King, I was actually sleeping and my sugar addled brain was fuelling the nightmare I found myself in.
The first dream, the one which was on repeat, was quite harrowing. Essentially I kept throwing myself off a tall building. And just before hitting the ground, I was back on top of that same building. This went on, over and over and over and over and over… until somewhere the conscious part of me took control and I forced myself awake. I have a semi-irrational fear of heights. I say semi, because I’ve zip-lined down the fastest line in Europe, giggling and without too many brown marks in my pants, but on the other hand, I’ve stood on the top of the tallest building in Sydney, Australia and had the urge to throw myself off it. I’d say I’m a liability at height because I don’t know what urge I’m going to get. After my heart stopped pounding, I drifted off back to sleep.
Are they silent or boisterous?
Barenaked ladies – when you dream
I started dreaming again… This time though I was back at my Upper School playing rugby. I did used to play rugby when I was a teenager, hard to picture I’m sure. I was a scrawny kid, not really interested in taking the hits, but I could catch a weird shaped ball as it plummeted to earth so I played at fullback. Also I was able to hide in the crowd a bit because we had a decent side with one of my contemporaries playing rugby for England at schoolboy level and going on to be a professional. I enjoyed playing, but once we got a little older, I wasn’t tall enough, or broad enough, or quick enough. And I’ve got a pretty face and that needed protecting. Anyway, I’m dreaming of me as a school kid, playing rugby, and we’re beating New Zealand. And I mean the actual adult, full blown, multiple World Cup winning New Zealand national team. I was quite happy there, until I woke up again.
After a few minutes, I must have gone back to sleep… to the nightmare from before. Constantly jumping off the top of a tall building. The adrenaline, the rush, the sheer fear of falling over and over with no let up. I jolted awake a few minutes before my alarm started to annoy me. In the ensuing haze, I’m unsure now whether I wanted to jump or I was forced, but that constant sense of falling has haunted my waking moments ever since.
Sweet dreams.
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