Let me strip myself bare for you. Here’s my subconscious mind laid out on a platter for your delectation. Last night I had three dreams.
Dream 1. I’m at my desk, a girl offers me an enormous slice of chocolate cake. It has chocolate frosting and chocolate on top, cream in the centre. It looks fabulous. I devour it sinking my teeth into soft, buttery, chocolatey abundance. Then I take another huge slice of cake, the last on the plate, saying that I’m saving it for someone else. I hide it in my desk drawer and sneakily eat it.
Dream 2. The animator and I are walking back to my parents’ house after going out for the day. In the dream I have a choice between two paths to get home, one path snakes around the base of a mountain the other goes straight over it. I choose the one that leads over the mountain. For the rest of the dream I am struggling to climb over rocks and scree, my hands bloody and my limbs heavy.
Dream 3. I’m sitting a seemingly eternal editorial test.
I woke up this morning physically and mentally exhausted, and feeling guilty about even dreaming about eating chocolate cake. Yes it’s true, I’m one sick puppy.