A dream of The Last Woman

In the dream I am lying in bed with a gay man and he starts to unzip my trousers. I decline this advance and get out of bed and am standing nearby. He says something like ‘Ah I understand, you are waiting for The Last Woman’. I say yes I am. The Last Woman will be the final fulfillment, the merging of the two women.

The family in the fog

It is a documentary about homelessness, maybe. We are outside a cinema or hotel foyer looking out. There is a thick fog and a family climb out of a taxi, rather old-fashioned with big coats and unload a large number of packing cases and boxes. We hear a woman’s voice saying ‘You can’t stay here. There’s no accommodation here.” The man replies “we are a family of travelling performers. These are our props. We do mime.” The woman says, “OK, go round to the right to the stage door”. Here you can see they have an amplifer and boxes of costumes. As they are waiting and getting ready to go on, I see H and an older woman. I say “One day we will all be living together”. The older woman says, “We already are.” And then I cover my face. I am overcome with emotion.

more battle dreams etc

Some war dreams with fighting and a sense of doom.

Also I have a new flat, some public housing somewhere – quite unEnglish, a block of flats, painted white in the sunlight. I had to climb on an old lady’s mantle piece to mount the stairs to the higher floor where I lived.

Before I went in, outside in the evening sunshine is a woman in a wheelchair who I don’t recognise. She says she is Beatrice and this feels like a reunion. She is there with her children who have grown older to welcome me to my new flat – which is kind of half way between two places. I see that she has only one leg (she has been married to at least 1 if not 2 Africans – in real life). But when she gets up I see that she has both and that it was my imagination.

Just before I go, one last dream

I slept badly last night. I had to be up at 6.30 but woke at 3 and found it hard to get back to sleep. I did but only for a brief moment. Long enough to dream about reconciliation. I was in H’s kitchen. I was close up to her and couldn’t see her just hear her voice. She had sensed that my resolve to leave had weakened and was holding on to me and being extremely familiar even while her lodgers and one of our children’s voices could be heard in the hallway. ‘Just use me as you see fit’, she kept saying.