Early this morning I awoke from quite a disturbing dream. It concerned towels.
In the dream, what I can recall of it what with dreams being such elusive things, when I looked out of my window the street was covered with towels. The garden, my lawn and flowerbeds, were covered with those thick towels with a sort of embossed design. I can’t think what they call them.
Being a one to dwell on things I’ve not been able to let this dream go. By the end everything inside the house and outside was betowelled, if such a word exist as it apparently doesn’t as this WordPress thing has underlined it in red. Well never mind I shall carry on regardless. Becoming quite the anarchist aren’t I?
What can it mean? I spoke to Audrey, still naked as a newborn and growing somewhat less shocking as time passes, about it and all she could think of was that with all the business with my house and himself leaving perhaps they represent something we use after we wash. Perhaps, she thinks, it signifies a final wiping down after a clean-out.
It’s a plausible explanation I suppose but it doesn’t quite feel right. I shall ponder on it for a bit and something may emerge. Who knows? I am open to other suggestions, naturally, if indeed anyone is reading this little folly of mine. It does seem one of those dreams that haunts one until it is resolved. Oh dear.
Until next we meet,