Dreamy Waffle.

I don't think I've fully woken up today. I feel like I'm walking through the day a step removed from reality, which is dangerous when shopping in Waitrose because the exorbitant prices don't seem quite as heart-stoppingly ridiculous as they should. Perhaps I'll wake up and realise nothing of today ever actually happened. Maybe all life is a dream - and if it is then I pity the 'person' dreaming my life because I've recently been watching an inordinate amount of Brothers and Sisters.

I've always had difficulty distinguishing dream from reality. When I was little the wind often used to pick me up and carry me quite long distances. Now rationally I know that unless I was living in hurricane central (which I wasn't, and the wind of my childhood was rather gentle and dignified rather than dashing me into rocks) then this must have been a dream. Similarly the time a tiger woke me up and scared me half to death probably never happened. I also have a memory of my mum and dad driving off into the distance in a red sports car, leaving me behind forever. Unless I was adopted after this incident and that is a latent memory, I'm guessing that never happened either.

One of my pet-ideas is that there should be a word coined for experiences we have in dreams, because dreams give us an idea of how things would feel and yet they clearly don't qualify as real experiences. I have never been chased by the Gestapo, although they feature fairly regularly in my unconscious, and the only time I've ever been paralysed with fear was in nightmares (the Gestapo were quite often present at the time).

I know that talking about dreams is quite bad manners. I have a friend who the moment he hears mention of 'I dreamt last night', declares he does not listen to people's dreams and walks away. I keep meaning to try this but instead I wind up smiling politely and feigning interest. Sebastian Faulks goes out of his way in each and every one of his books (and I've read all of the except for his most recent one) to weave into them somewhere the fact that hearing about other people's dreams is the most boring topic on the planet. I'm wondering whether he had a bad experience with a dream-interpreting parent, because it seems like quite a curious thing to mention in every book he's ever written.

And I agree with Sebastian. Hearing about other people's dreams is boring - especially when they're entirely unfollowable and ridiculous - like 'I was on a boat and then I wasn't and you were there only you weren't you and we went shopping and I can't really remember the rest but it was good'.

But every now and again I dream dreams that have true comic value, or are so obviously linked to real anxieties in my every day life (I can't tell you how many dreams I've had about placing volunteers. It's truly tiresome) that they need to be told. Here are a few of the most recent gems, told in a sentence so as to not bore you to tears:

- I had a cat and a mouse and loved them equally only the cat kept trying to kill the mouse.

- My ex-boyfriend got a new girlfriend and she stole all my favourite clothes.

- Jeremy and I were getting married only we were late and then couldn't find the priest.

- An apocalyptic tidal wave was coming and I was trying to pack a suitcase only I couldn't decide what to pack.

Any time I am rude enough to recount my dreams to friends I am told they are anxiety dreams or inadequacy dreams. Maybe I'm anxious about being inadequate. The suitcase one definitely doesn't need an in-depth analysis, although I'm curious to know exactly what the tidal wave stood for - the US Embassy perhaps? Jeremy? America?

I have a feeling I'm now stepping into dangerously dull territory and Sebastian Faulks would not be impressed so I'm going to shut up...I am quite pleased though that my subconscious inadequate anxiety seems to have a sense of humour, which must mean there's some hope.