dreams (2)

i am in the process of moving out of the family home. i am packing stuff up. it is taking ages. there is some problem with the flat i am moving into. i keep trying to get hold of the landlord to see when it is free. he is a friend of my stepmum's. the family home is messy and full of clutter. i still share a room with my sisters. i am getting all my stuff together but keep getting distracted by looking a things. i am putting certain things into a box file to take away with me. i am about to go away on a trip. it turns out later that i am going to russia for some sort of civic visit.

i find my winston churchill medal and put that in the box. i also find a badge that has a cut-out of the trans-siberian railway with a little map showing places like novosibursk, that i bought last time i was in russia. i put this in the box. it seems i am to meet some dignitaries and i want to wear these things on my coat. i find a large wadge of typed papers which is something i have written. it has editing notes all over it and needs sorting out. i try and take out what i need to take but then decide to sort it out later and put the whole lot in.

eventually i have cleared most of my bit of the room. i go into the living room/kitchen and make a phone call to the landlord. finally the flat is ready. i go back into the bedroom and pick up the last few things and move my bed so the others an re-arrange the room. i go down to a utility area which is below the kitchen and put a few things i am not taking there. my stepmum comes down and gives me a hug. she gives me something special to take (i forget this bit already but i think maybe a piece of jewellery or something - not a large item but a special one). i get my keys and say good bye to everyone.

i walk through the city towards the bus station. (i think there was a bit here about getting on a bus and then it being the wrong one but i have forgotten this bit) i start to join a queue for a taxi. there is a market going on and a food stall. it turns out the queue i am in is for the food stall and not the taxis. the people preparing the food are up higher than the customers, on a platform behind the counter. i ask the man who is selling the food where i can find a taxi and he points crossly to the row of taxis. they are black cabs. i go over but all the cab drivers are eating and are not for hire. one points to where the taxi rank is.

i go over there and as i reach it i see a long queue. i join the back feeling exhausted. eventually i get to the new flat. i go in through the basement entrance. my husband is there already and shows me in. the room is scruffy and basic but ok. mike is not going to be living here with me but has come for the night. i start to put my stuff down. he shows me the rest of the flat - through a hallway there is a large living room with french windows out onto a leafy garden, then a bedroom and a kitchen. it is all very scruffy but homely. mike goes out to get something from the shops and i wander around. the kitchen is painted in nice rich colours, the gloss is dark and the walls are bright. there is vinyl on the floor which has a lovely pattern on it but has big tears in it which would trip someone up. i decide when i get back from russia i will buy rugs to cover the tears.

just then i see a cat in the garden. it is a tabby cat. my dog (who has appeared but was not with me in the taxi) is looking fixedly out of the window.i know he will suddenly leap at the cat and may break the glass. i notice there is also a cat inside the room. its a ginger cat which is sitting calmly looking at my dog. he roars at the cat in the garden and bashes into the window. just then the ginger cat makes a huge leap and lands on my dog's back, digging its claws in hard. he squeals and runs around. i manage to get the cat off and bundle it out into the garden, holding my dog's collar to stop him going out. i shut the door. my dog has beads of blood coming through his coat. he is quite badly cut and i decide i need to get him to the vet for a jab and anti-biotics as cat scratches go mouldy easily.

then i am going to bed. at this point i am alone. the bedroom has two small zed beds made up in it. my box of things to take to russia is under mine. i want the window open but it is the ground floor and i am nervous. (usually i would not be because of my dog - i am not sure if he is still in the dream at this point or if i think because he is ill he won't protect me) i play around with the window. it is flimsy and has a sliding pane with some flimsy bolts. i secure it as best i can. i get into bed.

then my husband is in the other bed. we are both covered by pretty flimsy quilts. i say "its a good job i booked the flight for tomorrow and not today, i am shattered". we chat a bit then go to sleep.

dreams (1)

i am in a modern, fairly ugly, pretentious house. it is large, furnished in a cluttered but expensive way. it is dirty and dusty and cobwebby. the woman of the house has a son with special needs and two older children. there is also a grandmother who is there most of the time. she is kindly but scatty. the woman has employed me to clean for her. her last cleaner left. she has taken me on for 2 hours a week.

when i turn up for the first week it is immediately clear that 2 hours will not make a dent in the dust. more will be needed. the grandmother shows me to the main bedroom where i am going to start. the mother is at work and the younger child is at school. the older daughter is somewhere else in the house. the bedroom is a mess. the curtains are drawn and i open them. there is one large bed and one medium one. on top of the beds are new sheets ready for the beds to be made. i notice that, although the smaller of the beds is made up in the traditional way, the larger bed is made up as 2 horizontal single beds, with odd soft toys in one. the room is furnished like an hotel but with modern faded style. brown wall paper and dust everywhere.

i strip the beds and find that one of the mattress buttons has come off. they are made of fancy bone like duffle coat toggles. i go down to the kitchen and ask the grandmother for a needle and thread to sew it back on. i take back up some pledge and jif and cloths. i make a start on cleaning the room but it becomes clear it will take a long time. there is dust everywhere. i hear the mother coming home and go down. i say that it is clear that 2 hours a week is not enough time to make a dent in the dust. it needs a spring clean which will take a couple of days and then 4 hours a week to keep on top of it. she says the previous cleaner only came for 2 hours and i point out that the previous one left. i say we will give it a try and if it doesn't work out then i can always leave. i go back up to the bathroom and squirt jif on the bath. i scrub it around and then leave it to work. i go back to the bedroom. the daughter has re-made the beds using the old sheets, roughly. she is in the smaller of the beds. i say i was going to change the sheets and that the new sheets had been left out by her mother. at this point the mother comes in and bustles around the room, changing her clothes and going into the en suite shower room. she is rushing to get somewhere. i start dusting the top of a bureau. it has large ornaments, some african heads and big candles. behind everything is more dust.

when i go down to the kitchen again the grandmother has lined up a lot of large items of furniture - tables, desks, good quality oak stuff but huge. she says these are for me. i say i probably don't have room even though they are lovely but as i say this i am looking at one large table and thinking how lovely it is. then i remember that our table was made for us my my husbands brother for a wedding present and there is no way we can replace it with another one. i say i will find homes for the furniture. it is hard to get across the kitchen to the back door there is so much furniture. i get out into the fresh air with a feeling of relief.

the condom

i am standing in the doorway of the living-room. i am 14. it is dark outside; the room is lit by table lamps. my father is pointing towards the fireplace. it is a hideous fireplace; portland stone, built by the previous owner. it has a rough stone hearth on which, incongruously, is some bedlinen.

"what do you call that?" he shouts, bright red and shaking. he is pointing at the sheets.

"sheets?" i venture.

"don't you dare take the piss!" he shouts, louder. dealing with this sort of situation is delicate; too lippy and he will lay into me, not assertive enough and i will be considered guilty.

i take a step towards the sheets. then all becomes clear. among them is a condom. it appears to be used. i know it is not anything to do with me. whilst both my sister, who is a year younger than me, and i are both sexually active, i favour bareback riding. i do not indulge in any form of contraception until my 16th birthday, when my step-mum marches me along to the family planning clinic in my school uniform and demands that i am put on the pill. but this is yet to come. so i look at the condom, trying to think of something to say. i know it must be my sister's, or more accurately, her boyfriend's.

we are both going out with soldiers. mine is called alan and hers is called andy, a matching pair. my sister and i share a room and sleep in bunk beds. with the abandon of youth we think nothing of each bedding our respective soldier in our respective bunk. our parents do not know they are in the house. we sneak them in when they are watching telly, and they leave before the house is awake.

my father is still waiting. i realise that the condom must date from the previous weekend. i insist i know nothing about it. i refuse to grass up my sister. she is not subjected to the same inquisition. they assume she is too young to know about condoms. little do they know she is more sensible than me.