Dreams can come true...

Generally my dreams are a load of old tripe: for example, the one about trying to catch pigs in a flooded field whilst carrying a washing machine, whilst also being chased by anthromorphic articulated lorries. That I have never been able to forget.

*This was a particular stand-out example in my catalogue of anxiety-ridden sleep time brain vomitings. THOUGH ANY INFERENCE YOU MIGHT HAZARD TO MAKE ABOUT THE FACT THAT I WAS MARRIED TO MY FIRST HUSBAND AT THE TIME IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

But, last night I had an epiphany. Does anyone else have dreams that come in a series?

(Hopefully not just me – but if it is just me, please send me the number of a good therapist.)

However, I digress. Occasionally I get to have a season finale, and so it was last night. 

I have been dreaming about binning off lectures, skiving off tutorials and failing to hand work in since 1995. (*Cough* Bands! Not entirely focused! *Cough*). Hilariously, once I had actually finally graduated, I dreamt that I had started a new degree and I was repeating the pattern. BA (Hons) Media Communications to be exact. Why? I have no idea.

Any road, last night, I graduated from the fictional degree, and got a Third – and then had the realisation that a) I had a degree already so it didn’t matter all that much and b) had a much better grade. And oddly enough, woke up feeling pretty good about myself.

Brain, I could have done with this a few years ago, you twat.