2016

It seems to be a general consensus that folk don't like it when other people tell them what happened in their dreams. They find them boring.

Personally, I find other people's dreams fascinating. If your dream was vivid and crazy enough for you to actually still remember it once you're fully back in the world of the living, then I want to hear about it. Hell, even if it's not that crazy. My dreams are boring. I want to live vicariously through yours. Tell me everything.

Once I had a dream where I was trying to take out my contact lenses and couldn't. That was the entire dream. Just me trying to extract my lenses from my eyes. Over and over again.

I don't even wear contact lenses so maybe that's why I was having difficulty.

Until tonight, that was actually the most interesting dream I ever remember having. Maybe it was the copious amounts of brie I ate? You know what they say about cheese before bedtime and all that.

The dream I have tonight is confusing and, if I'm going to be honest, a total headfuck.

We're in the hotel setting, and the dynamic is the same in terms of our jobs, but Ryan is somewhere between his Ryan 1.0 and Ryan 2.0 versions in age, complete with glasses, and I've of course also regressed back to my teenage years, before I discovered hair straighteners and Sun-In. I'm almost surprised Angus does not turn up as a toddler in a nappy working the bar after my earlier ponderings, but I'm relieved to say he seems to be the same age as us. There's no confusion around why we're running a hotel in our mid-teens; it makes perfect sense in the dream. It always does though. It's only afterwards that you realise how ridiculous it is.

We're friends, just like we were back then. Not adversaries or whatever the hell someone would label it now. I adore him. When he looks at me, I'm fairly sure I can see something stronger than mere like in his eyes. He then actually tells me he's in love with me, and it's easy to say it back.

We decide, again somewhat illogically given that we're only fourteen or fifteen, to get married. The ceremony takes place in the hotel bar, apparently immediately, surrounded by most of the people I can remember from school. They're hazy faces, mere background players to my joy that I'm here, in love, with Ryan, and that he loves me too.

I start to walk down the makeshift aisle, a beautiful wedding dress materialising around me. I am delighted. I am radiant. But when I am a mere metre or so from reaching Ryan, who is watching me approach with a massive smile on his face, my bouquet slips from my hands. When I straighten up after retrieving it, another girl in a wedding dress is in front of me, back turned, standing beside him. I reach out and tap her shoulder. When she turns, it's Ryan's ex-wife. He turns too and suddenly he's Ryan 3.0 again. And he looks furious at my presence.

"What are you doing here?" He snaps. "And why the hell are you dressed like that?"

"Oh, you didn't think he'd be interested in someone like you, did you?" His ex says patronisingly. "I mean." She waves a hand dismissively up and down in my direction. "You're not exactly his type."

They brush past me back up the aisle, without a backwards glance leaving me frozen in horror, all eyes on me. I focus in now on one of the faces, I recognise him. It's one of Ryan's friends, Martin. He looks a bit . . . Smug. He always was though. I always liked him the least.

My dream comes to the classic conclusion when I realise my dress has disappeared. I'm standing in front of everyone in my laundry day underwear, sobbing my heart out, and I wake with a start, the jeers from the crowd still ringing in my ears.

While I'm really interested in dreams, I'm not sure they really have hidden meaning. (Although if they do, I guess I probably shouldn't try contact lenses if I ever experience vision problems.) I tend to think they're just our brain trying to process memories from our past, and actually the meaning isn't really hidden at all. In my case this dream has just taken elements of prom night 1999, twisted them, thrown in a new setting and some additional characters from my new life, then added some American soap opera drama to really jazz it up. Oh, and then stripped me almost naked, of course.

Sounds about right.

It's really unsettled me though. So much so that I actually end up telling Alice about it while she's training me on how the rotas work.

"Sorry, I know other people's dreams are really boring," I apologise. She laughs.

"I disagree. I think that's a really interesting dream actually," she says. I knew I liked her. She falls silent and I can tell she's replaying my retelling of the dream in her head. "So you and Ryan, as kids, you were never . . . In love?"

"Christ, no," I say emphatically. Probably too emphatically. Her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline at the force of my denial and she chuckles, almost imperceptibly.

"Hmmm. How do you know the other bride was Ryan's ex wife?" She asks, and at my answering blush she sniggers. "Facebook stalking, right?"

I redden further. "I even thought you might be his girlfriend," I confess.

"You're hilarious." She's in fits of laughter now. She wipes tears from her eyes as she calms herself. "What's the significance of this other guy in your dream? Martin, right?"

I shrug. I almost wish I hadn't mentioned his appearance in the dream. Martin was a dick. He probably still is. He was just one of those boys who gave the impression that he'd never fully grow up, but people let him away with his crap because he was "funny". His brand of humour was not one I subscribed to though; if you can only make people laugh by bringing other folk down, it's never been something I want to hear.

I also think he was well aware of the fact I didn't like him and didn't find him funny. And guys like Martin, while they feed off controversy, still want to be popular. So in return he didn't like me much either.

And I was okay with that.

"I'm not really sure why he was in the dream," I say eventually. Alice's eyes flicker over me suspiciously.

"You're a mysterious one, Iona Stewart," she says softly. "But I will figure you out."

"Have fun trying," I say flippantly, adding a cheeky grin to soften my words. "Now, about these rotas?"

And, putting the ridiculous dream to one side - for now, anyway - we get back to work.

Do you find other people's dreams boring? If yes, I apologise for putting you through Iona's dream in this chapter. 🤣

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