Dreaming

Tom is leaving to go and live in Cornwall. We have to drive down with him in his car; it will take five hours. Just as we’re about to leave, I see my cousin Erin. I’m supposed to be going around her house tonight but realise I won’t be back in time. She is outside Asda; she has bought some cheese slices. She tells me that she’s going to be making something with the cheese for tonight, possibly meatballs. I tell her that I have to go to Cornwall with Tom and that I’m unsure if I’ll be back in time to make it. She understands even though the night was important to us. As I say it, I realise that I won’t have any way of getting home from Cornwall as we’re in Tom’s car, so I ask him how. He says that I will be getting the train back.

Tom, Annie and I are on a train on the way to Cornwall. We are sitting in a modern carriage with no windows. I wonder why we’re sitting in the first place we come to rather than looking for somewhere nicer to sit. As I look around, I see how old-fashioned everything is. Instead of the modern carriage, it now appears to be set in the olden days. Everything is sepia-toned; there are people in old-fashioned dress sitting at round tables. I feel a sense of sadness and fear about Tom going to Cornwall and my Dad being in Rockpool; I realise that I will be all alone. I wonder how I will cope when something goes wrong or needs fixing. I feel scared at the thought of how alone and empty my life will be.

Someone comes to the table that I am sitting at; they are giving out presents. I see Ricky in front of me before he returns to his seat. I have been given a tall wicker basket; when I look inside, the bottom is missing, but I know that somehow, when I put stuff in it, it will manage to hold it. I know I need to fill the basket with tiny dried petals. I think I know where the petals are, so I get up and go to a room just behind me. It is dark and dingy, but this is where the petals are kept, in a container on a bar.  (I feel like I’m in a saloon.) When I look, I seem to be unable to get the petals. I walk along the carriage/saloon and spot all of Izzy’s children sitting around a big round table; Ricky is the dominant one. Someone says something to me about presents; I reply in a desperate voice, “I don’t want presents, I just want the flowers.” They seem to be so out of my reach.

Reflecting

I woke hearing My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean in my head.