Swim Like You Mean It

I haven’t posted anything in a while. Not that I haven’t been dreaming mind. The last couple of months have been a bit of a whirlwind. Christmas with all 4 parents (all at different times… and continents). New year celebrations, and general acclimatization have kept me busy. I also had the luxury of going to a few gigs. Andy Kim and friends, The Dears, Tokyo Police Club, and next week I’m seeing the Killers again!

But last night, I had a rather strange dream, and very different to what I normally have.

I can’t quite figure out whether I’m an outlaw on the run, or whether there’s just a sense of urgency to get from A to B. But my only route is to swim. Not just swimming pool or to an opposite river bank swim, but cross ocean swimming with Cheryl Cole of Girls Aloud fame. We start off with shorter crossings. I’m beginning to get this real buzz and sense of accomplishment (more so as in the real world, I’m actually petrified of water and don’t swim).

Then the big one. The Atlantic. A lot of preparation has gone into the trip. We have these special inflatable bubble type things to sleep in when we’re resting from swimming. Strange packages, kind of like astronaut food, to keep us nourished.

Off Cheryl and I go. We pass ships, days pass, the sea is getting choppier. We spot some sharks, so get into our inflatable bubbles. A shark manages to get into Cheryl’s and eats her. I survive.

After a while I see a shore line. I’m very excited as it means its England. I get to see my family quick and then pop on a plane to come home. I beach myself and realize I’ve reached Ireland and I’m SO disappointed. I book a taxi to take me to the other side of the island and then get back into the sea again so I can swim the last stretch to England.

But I woke up before I got there.

Cantankerous, Clumsy, Coo-koo

I have not been sleeping so well these last few nights. A combination of my approaching move date, and annoying drunken students walking home late, thinking that I might like to hear a high pitched version of some Take That song.

I did however manage to fall asleep long and deep enough to recall last night’s dream though.

I was skiing and broke my foot. Nice

I think having a curry and not cheese for dinner may have helped my dream not being so random (although this is the only one I remember). Does anyone actually think that cheese before bed causes disturbing dreams?

While I work out some of my final hours at work before I move, I am clearing my desk of all junk and paperwork. It’s making me recall a dream I had some months ago. I was at a media party with work. I didn’t recognise the venue, but it was pretty chic and had lots of dark rooms with high ceilings. It was perfect for avoiding people (which I think I was, as although there were a number of work people I knew there, in addition to a number of people from my personal life, including ex’s).

I had a drink and was talking to a member of my team at the time. All of a sudden, she lost her temper, started spinning, turned into a piece of paper, and then flew into a filing cabinet that suddenly appeared next to me. The draw then slammed shut.

The rest of the time, I just remember dodging and diving around this maze like bar, making sure I didn’t see anyone I knew.

Crazy Penguins

Last night, I had one of those dreams that don’t seem to flow as though you’re watching a film. It was more like a series of still montages – and although it was still, I was completely aware of the plot, the history.

I was on a mission in Africa, trying to save an endangered species of penguin from bandits poaching them for meat or to sell on the black market as some kind of rare stuffed trophy.

These were a special breed though. They were half penguin, half rainbow coloured potted plants. And they had the taste for human blood. They looked almost like a Christmas tree the way they were shaped and all the colours. They don’t waddle along; they kind of float about around waterholes you’d expect to see hippos and pink flamingos

It was a very short dream

Welcome Billy and Tabatha

I do on the odd occasion, dream about giving birth. The prospect of giving birth though terrifies me. Not least of all because I have no interest in children. My dreams don’t really involve kids. Rather, they involve anything but miniature beasts of burden.

Take this one dream; I’m lying on my mum’s kitchen floor. I’m in agony, grabbing my stomach, really struggling to breathe. Just when I can’t take much more, a little hamster pops out of me and lays on the tile floor, barely moving. Before I have a chance to realise what the French toast is going on, out pops wee Sweens number two!

I’m extremely distressed at this time, as they’re not really breathing. So I resuscitate them. When I’m quite satisfied they are ok. I open the fridge; find a Tupperware container full of leftover Indian takeaway. I put my new born rodents in amongst the curry, and shut them in the fridge. I then go about my business.

What does this mean???

Sweens Dreams

After years of disturbing those around me with the synopses of countless dreams, I thought it was high time they were published online. The hope is, that someone reading this will be able to make some sense of them. Perhaps I’m not the only one to dream about giving birth to hamsters, that I’m a flying horse, or that Catherine Zeta Jones is my mum.

So, feedback would be much appreciated. If you understand, and can explain what these dreams mean, please post a comment - join the debate of what exactly do sweens dreams mean?