Monday, 7 June 2010

Dream Interpretation

*message tone*
"Ah. It's Cameron."
"What's she saying? Is she mad?"
"'I can't believe you did this tonight. Just leaving like that. I'm getting on with my life, but I hate that you two are an item.' hah."
"But...we're not"
"I added the last part. WOOPIE! THE OLD GUY CAN FEEL!"

Despite every bone in my body willing me to continue (slight exaggeration) today's post is not going to be a complete transcript of my imagined fanfic piece about how Gregory House falls in love with the plucky but bumbling brilliant-minded doctor Katie Taylor. No, I've not gone completely insane since the Mirena (although I swear since that evil contraption was implanted I have cried at more films, cooed at more babies and fancied more hollywood totem poles than I have in my life. It's like my spleen's been replaced with a fruit basket sent from Her Frilly Highness, Laura Ashley.) No I haven't, it's my side effects from coming off SSRIs, and if you ask me, it's marvellous. I suffer from pretty chronic night terrors, and this well-deserved break from killing zombies in a post-apocalyptic Yorkshire Dales/House of Fraser/Lancaster Train Station is bliss. If I get to be the unassuming love of Gregory House's life in the process, well I might as well die now, because I'm happy happy happy. Happy, happy, HAPPY. (I miss him.)

I have never been a fan of interpreting dreams, but now that I'm having real ones (the other night I adopted an extremely cute and happy goldfish, the night before I was a zookeeper) I'd really like to know what the motherfuck is going on in my mind. I used all the tricks in the book to try and check if I was asleep, but I could read the time, check text messages, sing songs...I even fell asleep and had a nightmare IN MY DREAM, and woke up with whiskers and a love heart drawn on my face with my new Topshop lipstick. Gregory H can be such a nightmare when left to his own devices. It's ok though, he took me shopping of Oxford Street for some new ones. And some underwear. And it wasn't even creepy, which was nice.

Please share your own experiences of night terrors below - I know usually hearing about other people's dreams is on a par with having to sit through the rundown of what your beloved niece/nephew got for Christmas, but I am genuinely interested. I just gushed about Greg (I LOVE HIM, WHY IS HE NOT REAL?) now YOU gush about waking up terrified in the middle of the night and not remembering why. Go on, you know you want to.


M ooseOnTheRoof said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
M ooseOnTheRoof said...

AKA FireladySnail

(My last one deleted on it's own accord. Sorry about that...queefy pc)
House dreams ftw. I had one where Wilson stabbed me with a tuning fork, then took me out for dinner. And yes I still had the tuning fork sticking out my chest, but hey, he bought me a lobster bisque.

Though, I am allergic to lobster. Maybe he was trying to kill me over and over again.

Watching House fucks up your dreams.

Katie said...

He kept looking in my EYES. I still go wobbly remembering it. And I don't even fancy House IRL - well, I didn't used to. Now I can remember him being so lovely. Sighorama.

chestymorgan said...

Lovely posh ultra reasonable doc Michael Mosley was my sociopathic pervy lover in one of my dreams.It scared me shitless.I blame the Barry Adamson soundtrack on the medical mavericks series :0)

Katie said...

Haha that's BRILLIANT!

廖淑凡 said...
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