Sweet Dreams Are Made Of These

Who am I to disagree?

 

Hello.

I do disagree actually. For the past five nights I have had some strange dreams that quite frankly have left me baffled and confused and a tad concerns for my own sanity. If anyone has any analysis on what on earth this mishmash might mean I would be thrilled to know.

 

Sunday Night

I am at home. I find out there is an important business meeting at the travelodge. The big boss is going to be there and it is mandatory everyone attends. I for some reason spend a very long time changing my outfit trying to work out whether business wear or smart casual will make the best impression. I resign myself to the fact that I have missed the meeting and flop on the sofa instead.

 

Monday Night

I have gone out with an old school friend and a work colleague. For some reason the school friend's mum picks us up at the end of the night and takes us to our respective homes. I am not tired when I get I so potter about. I decide (for some reason) that I can't sleep in my bed so I take my duvet downstairs with the intention of sleeping on the sofa. Only when I get there do I realise it is light and that I have stayed up all night. I wake up confused as it is almost the same time as the time the dream ended.

 

Tuesday Night

I go to a lecture theatre with my boyfriend. It is full of trendy looking youths. We take our seats and sit through the first half. I don't know what this was about. During the break I go to another room where everything is very sciencey looking and all the colours are white and green. I have some sort of scan thing where they stick those things to your head. I return to the lecture theatre to find my boyfriend has changed seats and we are in a different row. I eat a marshmallow. He gives me a kiss and it tastes of smoke. During the break he has chain smoked 4 cigarettes. (He doesn't smoke). He tries you blame the taste on me when I question him but I know it isn't me because of the marshmallow. I refuse to sit next to him and the lecture starts again. This time it is a colleague giving a presentation on the attendance at a local college.

 

Wednesday Night

A man comes into work wanting help with his CV. He doesn't want to wait until the next available appointment so I offer him a local drop in centre at the Jewish Welfare Board. (This is a legit thing in my job, we have an adviser who works there one day a week). He says he can't go because it is only for Jewish people. I say it isn't and the adviser will be happy to see him. He shows me his CV which says that he is much better at any job than you (ie. the person reading it). Then he says it won't be too long until he can get help as he is converting and having the operation. Ouch.

 

Thursday Night

Somehow it turns out I've put my dress on inside out and someone points it out by saying it makes me look 'lopsided' and that I really should sort it out. I decide to pop to the loos and change. The first floor toilets are flooded. The second floor toilets have disappeared. The third floor toilets are just cubicles in the corridor that people can see over! I go in hoping no one is around and find that the bin is overflowing with rubbish. I hear people having a conversation nearby and panic. I don't know if I managed to turn my drss the right way around.

 

Surely you can see my concern. Why the heck is my brain coming up with this nonsense?! It's all very odd and has made for a week of not very good sleep. This is the most dreams I've ever remembered in a row I think which is why I've decided to write them down.

 

Is there anything I can do to have nicer dreams please? Where are you Mr. Sandman? Bring me a dream.

 

Pip pip

Charlotte xx

 

 

 

Little House

When I first got Pinterest, I started a board called Little House. It was where I was going to pin ideas for when I eventually manage to buy my own place.

It seems to have drifted though now from 'little house' towards 'imaginary dream house'. I'm not sure anything I ever purchase is going to have an indoor outdoor river pool, let alone my first tentative step onto the property ladder.

 

When talking about money or the future or some such other serious topic of conversation recently, the boy said to me "When I get rid of Audrey (the car) I have a checklist for what I want my next one to have. If it ticks those boxes, I'll have it."

And when faced with an increasingly broken phone and the prospect of needing to get a new one, I asked my good friend Sam (code name) what she wanted. She said she just wanted internet that works and to be able to listen to music. She wasn't bothered about a fancy camera or it being a really awesome sat nav. Just youtube and tunes. (Having said this she has probably ended up with some all singing and dancing number seeing as her brother works in the phone shop).

 

It got me to thinking, what would I really like for my very own first little house? And being such a fan of a list, why have I never made one before? So here we go!

 

1. To have a front garden of some description: I don't like houses that are right on the pavement. I don't want people looking into my living room every time they walk past.
2. To have a back garden of a reasonable description: Ideally big enough for a small greenhouse to grow tomatoes in. And for a bit of a veg patch.
3. A parking space: I don't drive (yet, I am learning), but I know people who do. And when they come to visit I want them to be able to park up.
4. A kitchen big enough to have a dining table in: I'm not bothered about a separate dining room. But I do like to eat at the table sometimes. And I've always wanted mismatching chairs too.
5. Two bedrooms: Three would be better but two means I can have a friend stay over without having to make them crash on the sofa.
6. An en suite: Or at least a second loo. It's no fun if someone is hogging the bathroom and you, you know... need to go.
7. A spare room: This can be that third bedroom if needs be, but I would like a room set up as an officey/crafty type room. Somewhere the computer can live. Somewhere I can have my (imaginary at this point) sewing machine set up. Somewhere with a desk.
8. To be within walking distance of a train station: Please see the above comment about parking. I have to get myself to places somehow, my preferred choice is by train.
9. To be within walking distance of milk: I know people who fantasise about owning a place out in the country. Away from all the hustle and bustle. It sounds lovely. Until you get up in the morning and realise there's no milk for your tea. I don't want to be smack bang in a city centre. But a shop nearby that sells milk and other useful items would be much appreciated.
10. To be somewhere I feel safe: I can't afford to live in the fancy places. But if I can walk down the streets at night without fear of being mugged that will do me!

So there we go. I have no idea if that is reasonable or over ambitious but I'll just have to keep counting the pennies until something like that catches my eye. And then we'll find out how unrealistic I've been.

Do you ever make a checklist for a big purchase to make sure you get what you want? It can't just be me who loves a list right?

 

Toodle pip, enjoy your day!

Charlotte x

 

 

Sunday Morning.

She blinked the sun out of her eyes as it found it's way in through the chink in the curtains. She never could sleep through sunrise. Must get that loft conversion finished. Then she could have a proper blackout blind on a nice skylight.

Despite it being far earlier than anyone should be up, he was already gone. She could tell, firstly by the lack of his breath on her neck and his arms around her, but also by the note on her nightstand. Well, not so much a note as a vague drawing of a cup and saucer, a downward arrow and a kiss. Tea downstairs.

She stretched and swung her legs over the side. Not one for slippers her feet found the smooth wooden floorboards as she slipped yesterday's discarded hoody over her head. Dressing gowns just aren't as convenient or comfy she had decided.

As she skipped down the stairs she started to think of all the things she could do today. A Sunday. Full of potential. But first, tea. Everyone knows you can't start a productive Sunday off without a tea.

As promised, there was her favourite mug sitting on the side with a flask next to it. He always took a flask when he was working overtime, it made sense to make her one too. And this way, it didn't matter when she got up, there would be hot tea waiting for her, as if he'd just made it.

She poured a cup, added milk and a sugar (it was Sunday after all) and set off to the garden. Whenever possible, starting the day in the garden was her preferred way. Especially this early, when it felt like no one else in the world was awake.

She listened to the birds chirping and watched a bee lazily bob in and out of the fox gloves as she sipped her drink. Instead of a proper breakfast she picked at the strawberries and raspberries. And then found herself eating fresh peas. Maybe not a traditional morning meal but one that made her happy. They could have something together later on when he got back. Maybe pancakes, or scrambled eggs on toast.

Having drained her mug she made her way back into the kitchen, poured the second cup from the flask and found her apron. She clicked the oven on and started rummaging in the cupboards. She found everything she needed, goodness knows she wouldn't let herself run out of anything. You never know when the urge to rustle something up will strike and it had been known in this household for guests to arrive, there to be no cake in the tin and 30 minutes later fresh butterfly buns to be presented. Cookery doesn't have to be fancy, just good. She plugged in her iPod, selected the playlist called 'Favouites' and began.

Over the next couple of hours, a sponge cake had been baked and was now soaking up lemon syrup, bread dough was proving nicely ready to be plaited into rolls for tomorrow's packed lunches and a giant pan was bubbling away on the hob. Jam. She had always wanted to make jam. And now she could.

She was so immersed in her own little world of bubbling fruit, and the music was turned up so loud that she felt she could sing along at full volume too, that she didn't hear the gate. She didn't hear the door. She didn't hear the thud of his work bag being dropped to the floor. The first she knew was his arms around her waist.

She spun round in a mild panic. The kitchen was a state. She'd meant to clean up but she had lost track of time. She was going to make the pancake batter, or at least get some toast ready but alas, she hadn't managed any of this.

"Busy morning?"

"I'm sorry... I lost track of time.. I-"

"Is that cake?"

"What? Oh, yes. But I was going to tidy up and make breakfast and-"

"Cake for breakfast it is. Come on, take this out to the garden. I'll put the kettle back on."

 

You can have cake for breakfast on Sundays.