HOODWINKED

I had a weird dream last night. I was late for a barbecue, then found out I wasn't invited to it anyway. I woke up feeling... sad.

I dislike the way dreams affect emotions. By the time I stepped out of the shower I realised I'd been hoodwinked and I told the mirror I was going to do something about it. That's the bathroom mirror of course, and not the national newspaper; I don't think they'd be tremendously interested in me dreaming about gate-crashing a barbecue.

Hoodwinked. It's rather appropriate that word - blindfolded and duped in the dark, tricked into believing something that isn't true. I'm a classic at letting myself get hoodwinked by myself; my subconscious mind is like a highwayman, waiting to ambush me at any appropriate moment. It robs me of my confidence, whispers horrible thoughts through the dark and crushes my achievements in its terrible shadow, blackmailing me never to speak of them.

I've had enough of being hoodwinked, I fancy. My reflection stared back at me through the steam. I drew a little smiley face on top of my own, with my index finger and then laughed out loud as I realised how silly it all is.

It seems to have done the trick.