After dreaming about catching Luke surrounded by half eaten bread after he’d made a promise to me that he would never eat bread again, I woke up and actually used the words “Luke, I had a bad dream”, and he gave me actual sympathy even though the dream was about bread-betrayal.  In the dream I slapped him and walked away and when I got to the flat, Roo was there and so were my friends, and we were cooking bean burgers. 

We were preparing food - it was sickly - strawberries and honey.  I was sat in a white dress.  There was a table of people sat opposite me and a breeze on the back of my neck.  Two friends brought me more food and left me alone.  It was sunny.  A parade of girls aer all made up and walking between the two tables, but the table of people look at me and it’s because I’m happy and pretty. 

If I’m becoming this conceited in my dreams, will it happen in real life too?

I dreamt that Luke was Rihanna but insisted that I didn’t refer to him as some kind drag queen because he wasn’t, he was just Rihanna.  ”It’s so weird that you have a beard right now but are actually Rihanna.”

She was scratching open her arm with a pen, running it back and forth so it would get deeper and deeper, I was worried about the ink and I could feel it, I could remember it, and I held her and kissed her to make her stop but she wouldn’t.  

How did I miss the second episode of the Apprentice?  How has a whole week slipped by without me noticing?  You should know that I genuinely got excited that I’d have double the Apprentice to watch.  You should judge me.

Last night I dreamt that there was a house party here, and Bob Dylan was basically asleep on my kitchen floor, in a cardboard box.  I sat down next to him and told him I needed alcohol.
“Bob Dylan, I need some alcohol.”  He lifted the bottle of wine next to him and offered it, but I told him I hated wine.
“Then you don’t need alcohol.”  Then I kissed him on the face because I wanted to.  I thought maybe he was dying and I wanted my kissing him on the face to be the last thing that would happen to him before dying.  Then I found Bruce Springsteen and I think we danced.   

He counted down each time, “I’m gonna do the first one now, are you ready?  ..3..2..” Then he’d breathe on my neck.  I couldn’t just feel the sensation moving down my back, I could see it.  The colour of my skin changing, the new colour moving and spreading outwards until it faded into a colour that was almost like normal, but a little brighter.  Don’t ask me how I could see my own back, dreams make no sense.  He did it a few more times, each time it got stronger.  He told me to look into the water, so I did, and I saw him.  I saw him stood behind us, a different him, and I can’t remember what I knew from that, but it was very relevant at the time.

“Sometimes I’m sure you can read my mind.”  I held his hand as I said it, and he knew what I meant.  I don’t know what I meant.  I could feel him smiling when I became aware that it was a dream.  For a moment or two I was okay with that fact, I was just enjoying myself, until one by one everything fell apart, because awareness that I wasn’t sat in the woods meant that I wasn’t sat in the woods.  For a few seconds after I woke up, I could still feel him breathing on my neck.  

So, wait, where was I?  I was on the Haunted Mansion at Disney World, hiding in someone’s shoulder when their shoulder became a bed and what was being projected onto the walls became unavoidable.  Big faces smiling and telling me things that I was trying my hardest not to hear, but I can’t remember why, and there was a lot of flashing.  I was on my own.  

Also dreamt lots of other things but they were all mundane or not particularly shareable.  

All I want to do today is nap.  Nap until bedtime.  And then sleep.  I’m just tired for no reason in particular, leave me alone.  

I had a dream that two women were talking in a womb.  I don’t know how I knew they were in one.  They were floating in nothing, surrounded by nothing.  It wasn’t air or sound or silence, there was no colour around them, just nothing, I can’t remember how.  Like the space inside a thick cube of glass.  Time passed and I was talking to a man, I knew he was pregnant because of the orange hoop inches from his back, suspending in the air at our garden party.  Suddenly it began to swirl, rushing, like the buffering circle, and, upon seeing this, he dove from the end of the garden and arose again, baby in his arms.  His wife thanked him for birthing the child and they kissed, forming an  arch over it.  

I woke up on the floor in my living room, but none of the colours worked.  It wasn’t that everything was grey, or dark, just that it was hard to pick the colours apart.  It was hard to see and I couldn’t understand why.  I got up to move and that was even more difficult, I was being slowed down by something, even lifting a finger didn’t work as I’d expected it to.  I opened my mouth to speak and not only could my mouth not form the words, but the sounds that came out didn’t sound like me.  Or any person.  I made it to the front door which was now just a hole in the front of my house, and I saw ash falling through the air, really slowly, really gently.  I heard nothing at all.  I hit the walls to try and make a sound but the tapping didn’t work, there didn’t seem to be enough of a relationship between my hands and the brick.  It was like being underwater, I suppose, with the way it sounded.  

I found what looked like lumps of meat scattered around, I assumed they’d been people.  I walked down the street, slowly, and every now and then I’d see someone, perfectly still, seemingly calm, staring at me.  I assumed they couldn’t move fast enough to convey their feelings properly and that I looked about the same.  I panicked about how life would be now, I wanted to cry for everyone dead or for the world all the colours had fallen out of, but I just collapsed, slowly, onto the road and woke up in my bed, warm and safe.  

My brain is testing me.  Or something like that, I don’t know, dreams about all the things I was scared of when I was little, all the things I was scared of when I was a bit bigger than little, all the things I was scared of a few years ago.  

The last one I had, I was stood in am empty white room without any lights on and I could hear my mum crying- no, not just crying, wailing, somewhere else, but the room didn’t have a door and she sounded too far away.  That one wasn’t too bad but it felt awful.  

The others were just messes that I’ll probably only tell Roo about, on account of him being a dog who, on the off-chance that he can understand what I’m saying, certainly can’t repeat it or remind me of it.  

I always have these dreams about amazing motorways, I know that sounds silly but they’re really intricate and complicated, sometimes they have loops.  I’m always driving with my sister on them trying to get to a shop.