For any budding psychotic, sorry-psychiatrist students out there who like to explain dreams try mine of today. I was in a room with two gentlemen with suits. One says ” I would like to explain the origin of the Phillipines”. He then proceded to pour himself a large glass of whiskey and then upturned the glass over his head. He then went to the open window and shouted “Petrel” at the top of his voice. He and we then calmly left the office and joined a number of guests at a dinner table.
The reason I say Petrel and not Petrol is that the dinner menu included an item “seabird specialities” which included Petrel.
Fans of Monty Python will exclaim “ha ha, you are obsessed with silly men who speak with posh voices and like unusual ice lollies”. Oh dear, I thought I was past that many years ago.
The other dream I had, probably concurrently, was that I had visited an up-market hairdresser and when I looked in the mirror I noted that my hair had been dyed red. (My wife is a redhead). I noticed also that it had been pulled back into a bun and ponytail and had some paper and two flowers in the bun. I asked my wife to remove the flowers as I was just about to visit my father across a river (??) and did not wish to appear foolish. I must explain that although I am by no means bald there is no way that my remaining hair would make a jaffa cake, what’s more a bun. Thank goodness the alarm went off and saved me further embarrasement.
Two years ago my wife bought me a little book about dreams, but none of my recurrent ones were anything like those listed. Perhaps it is down to my having a bad back at the moment and eating too much Blaenavon cheese (which, incidently, is rather delicious).