Here is last night’s dream. I have no idea where this came from.
The dream opens in some kind of US led event, possibly at the London embassy or some swish London hotel. It is in some kind of meeting of delegates and in hurried response to one of Trump’s “great ideas”. The whole thing is rushed, last minute and cobbled together. The staff have done a great job of preparing the banquet with a long rectangular top table seated on one side only and subsidiary tables. The Americans have sent a delegation most of whom are MAGA loyalists. At right angles to top table there are the other long tables seated on both sides.
I find myself sat on one of these tables very close to the end which abuts top table. To my left is an English MP query Wes Streeting and to my right is an American who clearly considers himself important. “Wes” is next to top table. The American is talking to staff to have me moved because he does not know who I am and am not in any of the pre-meeting briefings he has received from security. He is talking to staff in a demanding and entitled way. He is roughly my age wearing a dinner jacket like suit and has a balding head. He says that he does not know who the fuck I am nor why I am there. I agree that there must be some mistake. I am clearly at the wrong table. I do not belong there. I am not important like them. I move to get up. “Wes” apologises. I say that it is for me no drama. Once I have gotten up everyone shuffles along one place to the left.
The staff lead me off to the back of the room to some kind of satellite meeting. They notice a place between Justin Trudeau and a MAGA faithful lawyer who is becoming politically active. He is upcoming. He is mid-forties and with sandy coloured hair. They seat me between them. Trudeau welcomes me as does the lawyer. Trudeau is just swinging by and is in London. I start to skilfully interview the politician-lawyer. He is having good fun because he is talking about himself. I ask questions attentively. He suddenly stops and asks me what I do. He has a southern accent. I say that a long while back I did a start-up and used to work with students. He says that maybe I can help look after his daughter who is on placement here in London. I say gladly.
She waves from the entrance hall to the banquet. I get up and go to meet her. Together we go to the quiet rooftop of the building. We start to chat and she has with her a yellow plastic container with “fluff” a fluorescent pink marshmallow like treat. She offers me some. She is on strict instructions not to eat the whole box. I have a little and say that she is welcome to my share. I ask her how she is finding London. Refreshing is the answer. She apologises and says that her father can be more than a bit of a dick from time to time. I am pleased to be away from the banquet.
The scene changes and I walk past a glass doored college laboratory and the young woman is there. It is the next morning. I ask how she is. She says that she had an upset stomach from the fluff but is otherwise OK. I leave her to get on with her experiments. Apparently her father has come to pick me up in a car and I need to get into a suit. He arrives and we go down into a wide American style convertible which he drives only a few hundred yards. We discuss how relationships can take a time to build. He says that where he comes from the pace like the accent is slow. A garage door opens automatically and we are soon in the lobby of a hotel. I think it really stupid to have driven when he could have walked. Someone gestures to him and he walks off leaving me in the lobby with the promise he will return. In the dream I know he will not and try to figure out how long I need to wait before I can walk off. He has forgotten all about me because I am not important to him..
The dream ends.
Dreamyoga 