I had another one of those wonderful fix-it-all dreams last night where I worked out the solution to a problem that’s been nagging at me for weeks. It was so deliciously simple I had to go over it again and again to make sure I wasn’t missing something. Of course it has faded now – as all good dreams do. I’m awake and trying to remember the solution whilst bemoaning my lazy-sleepy arse for not getting out of bed and writing it down. At the time I think, ‘I can’t possibly forget this’. Why do I think that? People tell me things, ask me to do things, and I know if I don’t write it down I’ll forget. I will think, ‘I’m going specifically to the shops to get more sanitary towels, there’s no way I can forget them,’ and yet I return home with a bag of paracetamol, mascara, another lipstick, some hand cream, a hand towel and a new shower pouffe, but no sanitary towels. I return to the chemist. This happens all the time and yet I still kid myself I can remember things.
I wonder if it is part of the over-the-hill syndrome, the refusal to accept that maybe not everything is working at 100%, or even 50%. When is over-the-hill nowadays? If life-expectancy is 80 then is the peak at 40? Unless the climb is longer than the drop, in which case let’s say 50. No doubt when I near 50 I shall change that to 60.
At this point in time many of my friends are making some pretty big changes in their lives. Some are divorcing, others are getting married again and a few have decided to emigrate, whereas I am snuggling further and further into my nest. Even my nearly-80-year-old mother is gallivanting around the world squeezing every last drop of energy out of her tiring body, being pushed by an unflagging soul. Maybe it was something I ate, or perhaps I’m the Ever-ready one-off-use to everyone else’s Duracell rechargeable.
But in my dreams I’m more adventurous, every night I’m off trekking the Himalayas – can’t stand the cold so will never do it in real life; swimming the channel; snowboarding; (horse)riding across Spain; looking after elephants; teaching English in the Far East; flying, flying, flying.
No wonder I wake up so tired.