Life I want to write about a dream I had last night.

I hardly ever remember my dreams too vividly and want to write them up on here even less but for some reason this has stuck with me all day. The start is foggy as these things are, but I remember walking out of the back door of a house which only ever seems to appear in my imagination and knock on another back door which is opposite. It all happens from my point of view. This isn't one of those occasions when I appear in the dream and I'm watching from the third person.

A girl opens the door.

I don't know who she is. I've been wracking my brain but I really don't know how she's been summoned and were I might have met her before. But here she is standing in the doorway. For some reason I remember seeing her before with short cropped hair, but now she had long brown tied back hair. She seems to be slightly younger than me and she's wearing a light green t-shirt and jeans. I think. Colours in dreams are always indistinct.

She's just glaring at me. I remember being worried. She doesn't say anything.

"Are you OK?" I blurt out.
She continues to look at me. She her face is blank now.
"What's wrong?" I ask again.
"I don't like you." She says.
I'm hurt.
"Many reasons. Mostly the conversation we had about focaccia."

I'll interupt here and say that I have no idea why she said that or what this dream is about. I'm describing it and actually it seems like the perfect opening for a film. A low budget indie picture from in the 90s, a Sundancer, but a film nonetheless. But Italian bread?

The oddness continues because I remember having the focaccia conversation with the short haired version of her in a previous dream. I remember it not going well and me being me a lot and being nervous and possibly boring. Dreams are relating to each other, but at no time do I realise. This isn't a lucid dream then.

"I know. I remember." I say. "I'm sorry. I'm not really like that."
"So what do you want?" She asks.
"I wanted to see you again."
"Just for a minute or two..."

And she lets me into her house. The backdoor leads into a large, lounge area with wood paneling, hundreds of books and a grand piano. I don't remember seeing this house before although now that I reflect back, it does remind me of the apartment which appears in the Woody Allen film, Deconstructing Harry.

Anyway I don't remember much after that, I'm sorry. I mean I don't remember experiencing it. Dreams have a habit of drifting, scenes in and out of each other.

But the next thing I remember is running down a corridor which was at my secondary school, through a door into a large 70s American style woodpanel bank, dodging customers up and storming up to an information counter were the girl (now in a tellers uniform) is standing with her manager. Neither are happy to see me. I try to talk to the girl, but the manager, who is about my age I think, keeps telling me that it is inappropriate. I just keep saying...

"But we had a good night. I want to see you again."

And eventually, the girl smiles and says OK. I smile and turn and walk away. I remember thinking "I sat up and talked all night with her..."

Actually when I say that I can't interpret the dream I can take a guess. I've been feeling a bit isolated lately. The few friends I made at the beginning of the year haven't been around much since mid-October (or rather if they have been going out I haven't heard about it...) and somehow, as is the way of things, I'm back into the routine of spending far to much time without a peer group. Things are worse than that. For reasons I hinted at during my Review 2005 entry I think my subconscious is probably getting annoyed. It's trying to tell me about some things I already know and need to change.

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