Angry Dreams

I have been on holiday. Four carefree, blissful days with three good friends. We had a small car that we used to seek out beaches, views and good food, otherwise we simply conversed and rested. It was heavenly.

So why was I having angry dreams?  Dreams in which I was spitting vitriol, raging in a way I have never done in real life (or at least not since I was a toddler) against people who represented some great injustices that were making me so furious.  Each morning I woke up feeling replenished and renewed, yet amused and rather embarrassed about my hysterics. 

I'm assuming it was some kind of reaction against the last few weeks, which have been unusually hectic and often frightening.  I have been on full pelt, knowing I can't keep it up and fearful of letting something important slip (I did, my dad's birthday - I am a rubbish daughter).  Strange though, that it should come out in my dreams this way.

The holiday and the dreams have worked a kind of magic. I feel recharged.