7 November 2015

7 November 2015

My wife is dancing provocatively on a table-top surrounded by cheering and chanting men and she is waving at me as I stand bemused and hurt in the corner of the room. Yes, she is waving at me as if she thinks this is acceptable behaviour, and now she is kneeling down and beckoning some of those dreadful drunk and leering men over to her and... Oh my goodness what the hell does she think she is doing now! And my anger and shock is rising and... Oh... I am in bed... It was a dream... And she is sleeping peacefully by my side with her soft face turned towards me on the pillow, but... although I have just realised it is a dream, my mind is still full of anger towards her. How could she behave like that? Oh, but she didn't, remember? It was a dream. I am confused... And I prop myself up a bit, lean back on my pillows, and think about how difficult it can be to shake off the effects of a dream, for I often wake up worried, or angry, or depressed as a result of the complete and utter nonsense that my dreaming mind has created; and even as I then bathe and breakfast and perhaps head out in the car towards the day's real events I can find the effects of the dream still lingering and so difficult to shake off. And oh look... The lady... She has opened her eyes now and those big brown discs are looking at me all innocent and sweet. Has she no shame? Oh... it was a dream... But still, she had better behave herself today. I will forgive her, because it didn't really happen, but still... I'll be watching.