Dreaming

I am sitting in a tent. Horses are running around outside; I’m hoping they won’t come in. One does. It looks like a blue Bulldog.

I am on holiday in Cornwall with Phil, the kids, Tom and his new girlfriend (he doesn’t have one in waking life). The tide is out; golden sands are crying out to be played on before the sea comes back in, but I can’t find anywhere to park other than outside a rough-looking pub which turns out to be an exclusive members pub for posh people. They instruct me to read the signs which mean I can’t park there.

Phil and I argue about Tom.