WHAT DREAMS

I had a dream last night that I hid from a nuclear explosion by diving into a toilet.

I think you can read too much into dreams sometimes. I woke up with that weird mixture of fear and relief, and immediately recounted it to myself - which is, I think, the only way to remember it.

The world, the real world, was arguing about chocolate eggs. I found that kind of refreshing after the sheer panic of scenes my brain had constructed from movies.

I reckon part of the fascination with dreams is that they're sort of out of our control. Subconsciously, we splice together memories and imagination, wire them up in a sort of surreal landscape and let the narrative convince us we're there and there's nothing we can do about it.

That's how my old school library is somehow outrageously also the kitchen at work. That's how I can fly over Google Maps with Richard Osman, and that's how I can race through the suburbs while the sky burns with the fire, and then leap head-first into the safety of the bowl of a toilet while the rest of the world gets swept away in an atomic blast.

It's not supposed to make any sense.

I've been dreaming a lot recently. I wonder if it's down to eating more fruit and vegetables? Are these dreams the collective chemistry of kiwis and sweet potatoes?

By the way, Junko thinks I should write a daily blog about smoothies, including the odd combinations I carry in to work with me. I'm not so sure it would be that interesting. It might be though, if I could link it to the peculiarities of my unpredictable subconscious.

I'll be honest though, I'm just glad that I'm sleeping a bit better these days. I'd happily take the apocalyptic H-bomb nightmare, if it also means I keep sleeping through the night.

One thing I might do though is leave the bathroom light on so that I definitely wake up if I sleepwalk.