My dreams make my first waking hours a little grey. They colour them. I try to resist their influence but it is hard. I still move within them. The other night I was looking at my own back. I was studying it in detail. I was naked and I watched my muscles and bones move. A strong back, rather wider than my own. Last night someone was talking me through what books to get for ‘baby’. I’m not sure who baby was. Was it mine or was it me? She was quite bossy, this woman. The next dream involved another woman, one who had been invited to set up a drama school in Durham. She was excited and had given up her job to do this. I was in a canteen with two other women. We were on a journey and having something to eat before we set off. It was as usual, there were nothing for me to eat. They talked of getting a take away and I wondered if my stomach could hold out until then.
I’ve lost Radio 3. I’ve touched something and it’s gone awry. I throw a wobbly mostly because it stresses me that I don’t understand machines. Breathe and sort it out later. Trust. And it will be so.