Dreams.  Not the ones you imagine, visualise… not the goals you have for your life, the ones you day dream about.

Dreams.  The ones you have while you sleep…

I usually don’t remember them.  They are on the periphery of my ‘rememberer’… Just out of reach…

 

But last night I had 2. Very vivid.  I still remember them.  Maybe it is because I was woken suddenly from them… or maybe it isn’t.

 

I am on a chair lift.  There is no snow….  But I am dressed in full ski kit, in my ski boots.  But I am carrying my skis.  They are heavy and my arms ache.  I am with a friend.

 

As we reach the summit, the top… it is time to jump off and I can see the Big Man waiting below.

 

As we reach the summit, we realise we can’t lift the bar.  We can’t get our skis on…

 

So we go round again.

 

As we reach the summit, my friend just jumps off…. Landing painfully in ski boots….   But I can’t do it.

 

So I go round again.

 

As I reach the summit…. I am on the edge of my seat… anticipating the pain of jumping off and landing on the ground in ski boots.  I can’t do it.

 

So I go round again…. And again… and again…. Getting higher and higher on each round, making it harder and harder for me to make the leap. The Big Man getting more and more frustrated each time I reach the top and can’t jump off.

 

I am relieved… so relieved to wake to the sounds of ‘MUMMY’ at 4am as Willy has a nightmare…

 

I lie awake for ages… wondering what it all means…  My life has been a bit like a ski lift or a rollercoaster, going round and round and up and down… I feel like I have been stuck on it.  Can’t get off.  I am on a path I can’t control…. I can’t get off.  And the Big Man is frustrated at me…..

 

I must have nodded off as I am in a hotel room with a strange man.  I am carrying something.  My laptop?  I am not sure… I feel afraid…. And I crash through the door and down a long corridor that is red and narrow…. I find tiny stairs and I run down them… and I am running, up and down stairs and can’t stop… My heart racing…. Running… Clutching whatever it is in my hands very tightly… Running from the footsteps….

 

And then a little body snuggles in to me… a blond halo around his hair as the sum streams in.  ‘Morning Mummy… I love you’….

 

My heart rate slows.

 

What does it all mean?  What on earth am I running from?  What am I not willing to share?

 

What does it all mean?  Does it mean anything?

 

Probably not.