I’m reeling somewhat from the verbal abuse delivered by the big boss; all that I’d done was use my lunch hour to visit a friend. What he’d seemed puzzled about was my expectation, that it was possible to visit an antipodean friend, at home, during my lunch hour. Yes, I know that it took a little longer break than usual, to travel halfway around the world and back but, I also know that he’s extended his coffee breaks on numerous occasions.
I wake up feeling battered and bruised; it’s hard to believe that a barrage of words can cause such physical damage. Thank God, it was just a dream; don’t think I could have taken much more of this stress. The dream was so ludicrous anyway, a couple of hundred yards is the furthest I’d ever travel during a lunch break and, my aversion to travel, makes the dreamt adventure seems suspiciously representative of some subconscious masochistic yearning.
My beloved suggests a plausible connection between my dream and very recent reality. Yesterday afternoon, after many hours of restful inactivity in preparation (on my part), ma belle chauffeuse drove me to a barbecue*, some twenty five minutes away from home; most of the journey was on the A1 before manoeuvring our way through a couple of potholed, spasmodically flooded, country lanes. Even that little journey provides me with sufficient stress induced exhaustion.
Once we get there, I recover sufficiently to become, temporarily, my old sociable self, contentedly sharing conversation and anecdotes with the assembled company. The company and the pastoral location prove most rewarding but, that doesn’t prevent a state of mind and bone numbing fatigue overwhelming me by 9.00pm. Everything around us is still in full swing but, I can’t risk overdoing it!
So, here in the real world, I recognize that this small excursion is my equivalent of that travel so casually undertaken by my dream-self!
* for more details of the barbecue see my beloved's posting on her Bright Light blog.