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I was with three male colleagues, driving to a restaurant (we worked for a chain, in real life). John Nettles was driving (he didn't work for the chain).
As we approached Southampton he said that one of the restaurants was on a ship and about to be decommissioned. We decided to drive to the docks and have a look.
At the dock we waved as the ship went by. JN pulled me towards him and kissed me...I murmured, 'The husband of someone I know takes photos of the ships, I might be able to get a photo.' JN replied, 'That would be great.'
Baggy's dream sounds fun - John Nettles is dishy. Was he the slim young version or the plumper, older one?
In my dream I was pregnant, talking to my (42-yr-old) son about it and the baby kind of emerged. No mess or anything - it was just there in my arms.
But it was tiny and after I'd had a cuddle it said, "I think I should go back for a while," so it sort of faded and then was back inside me.
Mr Bear dreamed that he was fixing a handrail on a pavement, and people were getting annoyed, so he had to be polite and sing to them. Then I appeared and threw myself fully clothed into the sea, clutching my handbag under my arm.
I think he's been inhaling the cement dust again. He can't sing, I can't swim.
I took my Kindle along to the play tonight - to read during the interval (To Serve Them All My Days - book, not play) and realised that one of the characters is a Barnaby...
I'd left a house with two young people, one male, one female, I knew they were close friends though neither were known to me in my waking life. I was the age that I am now, (unusual, I normally dream of myself as a young man). We were walking, and left the road to climb up a long, open, grassy hillside. The place was packed with people and I think there was some sort of festival in progress. After a while i realised I'd become separated from my companions, although I was only maginally concerned about this. I made my way through the crowd to the top of the hill, and looking down saw what looked like a small railway station, or halt with a single track line. There were lots of grizzled old guys, sitting on benches, outside the station office, reminding me of a saloon in a wild-west town. I entered the building and found myself in a tiny room with steep stairs leading out; climbed these and went down a short corridor which I knew was a bridge over the line. There were more stairs at the end but they were very rickety and I had to hold on to the hand rail to go down, but I still stumbled a couple of times and nearly fell. When I got to the bottom I found myself in a strange landscape, scrub and bracken, with lots of birds and rabbits flitting about. For some reason I was very happy, and made off to return to the house that I'd left with my young companions.
Sadly, it ends there. Might be worth working on.
The people and the festival are life. You are walking to the top of the hill - life's journey. You see the railway station - the way to death - old guys sitting outside reinforce the symbolism. You pass over the bridge, significantly. The rickety stairs and nearly falling is the process of death. You come out in a strange landscape - the afterlife. You didn't fall. You're not going to stay. You choose to return to life. I think the young companions represent life in male and female forms but could also be seen as guardian angel types.
Hope you don't think this is a morbid interpretation - I see it as a lovely, positive dream.
[quote=MonkeyNuts]I had a dream recently I was shot in the head, three times. I survived, but boy it was horrendous. I woke up with a sore head too... [/quote]
Comments
Are you a Grandpa, John? I can;t think of any other reason to watch that programme!
:)
Our Chris Evans is female, and Mme Snail's foremost Strange Associate. :D
I was with three male colleagues, driving to a restaurant (we worked for a chain, in real life). John Nettles was driving (he didn't work for the chain).
As we approached Southampton he said that one of the restaurants was on a ship and about to be decommissioned. We decided to drive to the docks and have a look.
At the dock we waved as the ship went by. JN pulled me towards him and kissed me...I murmured, 'The husband of someone I know takes photos of the ships, I might be able to get a photo.' JN replied, 'That would be great.'
No idea where I dragged him up from - he hasn't been in the news for years and I wasn't that interested in him when he was!
In my dream I was pregnant, talking to my (42-yr-old) son about it and the baby kind of emerged. No mess or anything - it was just there in my arms.
But it was tiny and after I'd had a cuddle it said, "I think I should go back for a while," so it sort of faded and then was back inside me.
Cuddly - bit on the perfect side, to be honest.
I can fully explain my dream...
My friends ate fish and chips last night - I used to work for Harry Ramsden's and would often visit their restaurants.
At home I was pondering Morse, Lewis, Midsomer Murders etc.
During my meal at the pub, I was discussing the brilliant photos that I share on FB by Phots Moll's husband.
Simples.
*thinks John Nettles is a great cuddler and kisser*
I think he's been inhaling the cement dust again. He can't sing, I can't swim.
And that's all that's wrong with that dream?!
I thought you were already living a life far, far away in deepest France?
[/quote]
Is that the actor covered in brown fur, stuffed with sawdust and cuddled by trillions of children the world over?
*turns over another page*
Can't remember last night's dream. I suspect I was in 'dream jail'.
*swoons*
I was in a tsunami and it was made of thick foam.
'orrible.
It has been known...
[/quote]
Surely it's my turn again?
*focuses on all things Nettles*
My dreams are never coherent for long enough - something always happens to cut the good bits off before they're complete.
"sigh"
*winces*
I'd left a house with two young people, one male, one female, I knew they were close friends though neither were known to me in my waking life. I was the age that I am now, (unusual, I normally dream of myself as a young man). We were walking, and left the road to climb up a long, open, grassy hillside. The place was packed with people and I think there was some sort of festival in progress. After a while i realised I'd become separated from my companions, although I was only maginally concerned about this. I made my way through the crowd to the top of the hill, and looking down saw what looked like a small railway station, or halt with a single track line. There were lots of grizzled old guys, sitting on benches, outside the station office, reminding me of a saloon in a wild-west town. I entered the building and found myself in a tiny room with steep stairs leading out; climbed these and went down a short corridor which I knew was a bridge over the line. There were more stairs at the end but they were very rickety and I had to hold on to the hand rail to go down, but I still stumbled a couple of times and nearly fell. When I got to the bottom I found myself in a strange landscape, scrub and bracken, with lots of birds and rabbits flitting about. For some reason I was very happy, and made off to return to the house that I'd left with my young companions.
Sadly, it ends there. Might be worth working on.
The people and the festival are life. You are walking to the top of the hill - life's journey. You see the railway station - the way to death - old guys sitting outside reinforce the symbolism. You pass over the bridge, significantly. The rickety stairs and nearly falling is the process of death. You come out in a strange landscape - the afterlife. You didn't fall. You're not going to stay. You choose to return to life. I think the young companions represent life in male and female forms but could also be seen as guardian angel types.
Hope you don't think this is a morbid interpretation - I see it as a lovely, positive dream.
I didn't know we had our very own Dream Interpreter. Loved it!
(and enjoyed your rendition of the dream, too, sm)
A customer!
*note to self: must do more target practice*
[/quote]
SM, again you fill this Fred with so much love. Come here you big fluffy snugglebum and give your favourite monkey a cuddle.
<Opens arms and puckers up>
That's the most frightening thing anyone has ever said to me.
*reports post*
Mmmmm.... let me see.
* waits for palm to be crossed with silver *
* also takes Visa *
<Decides to hug SM some more>
Purse? You don't carry a purse, MN. We all know that card's been secreted in your bikini bottoms.
<Thinks I can be sensible>