More wyrd dreams. Yet it can’t be due to cheese (because I’m dieting and cheese is completely off the menu).
It seems likely that last night’s wyrd dream was spawned by the book I’m reading – a fascinating account of 1950s Soho as told by a prostitute’s maid. It’s the first book I’m reading on my new Kindle and I’m really enjoying it (and the Kindle experience).
It’s not the sort of dream I particularly enjoy sharing. This was a mixed night and it was ‘dream two of three’. The other dreams were odd enough but I’ll focus on this one.
All I really recall was being in a whorehouse. It was comprised of rent boys, rather than female prostitutes. It was pokey and squalid (as per the descriptions in the book I’m reading).
And the embarrassing and rather sordid key element? I deliberately ur****ed all across the mattress while standing up. I really have no idea why. And to save the dearly beloved the temerity of asking the question – I don’t recall it being over someone; just over the mattress. But it was a vivid dream. So vivid that I woke up thinking I’d wet the bed!!! I hadn’t. But even so. Unnerving… and God alone knows what it meant.
Perhaps it is linked to the (rapidly disintegrating) relationship with that guy. Short and sweet as it appears to have been.
I also changed the sheets on the bed yesterday evening and I remember the mattress protector coming off and remarking, inwardly, that the mattress looked to be in very good condition (the landlady had said it was ‘almost new’ when I moved in). The mattress in the dream looked identical.