Whenever I’m unwell I have particularly vivid dreams. So the fact that I woke from one last night wanting to cry and not sure quite why says something about my health. (The pillow drenched in sweat was another sign.)
I only remember snippets of the dream, from which I’ve ascertained that my subconcious is a manipulative bugger. This was heart-tugging movie of the week material. There was the poor little crippled kid who obviously wasn’t going to make it and a troubled blonde who was either a teacher in the style of Michelle Pfeifer in Dangerous Minds or a doctor like Doctor Susan from the first few series of ER. Add melodrama and other stuff and stir to see Ian wake up all confused and upset.
I’ve got tomorrow off. Watch me come down with something and be incapable of doing the stuff I need to do.