Dreaming

Tom and I are in the car driving to Scotland. Suddenly it is dark, and we realise the rest of the way is down unlit country roads; we’ll be unable to see what direction to go, and even unable to see the road. I know the road we’re currently on and tell him to brake as we’re approaching a junction.

The junction is unclear until we’re right there, and if he hadn’t stopped, we’d have been hit by cars coming the other way. I suggest that we find somewhere to stay for the night and carry on in the morning when it’s light. As he drives, I look at the buildings on the right-hand side to see if there are any guest houses or hotels. The houses are all higher than us on a raised slope, and it’s difficult to see what is what.

After a short while, I spot a house that is a guest house; we agree to stay there for the night. I look for a sign with the number on it to phone them; I can see it but can’t quite make out the number. In the front garden is the hull of a boat – I become confused as to whether this is actually the guest house.