Summaries of two dreams I’ve had recently:
Faye was moving out of her family home and into a flat of her own, and as it was small, she wasn’t able to provide sufficient space for all of her many critters, so she rehomed a parrot (a Scarlet Macaw, although I’m pretty sure she only has an African Grey in real life). Having heard about this from my mum and on Faye’s blog, I visited Preston and met the parrot, who turned out to be a remarkably intelligent “talker,” – even for a parrot in general – capable even of understanding some particularly complex linguistic constructions like rhyming.
I was driving a moped, with Claire riding on the back (she commented that I was doing a better job of it than she would, reminiscent a real-life skidooing incident). We were travelling at speed around the hilly, cobbled streets of a distinctly-Mediterranean city. We were dodging traffic and in an obvious hurry when I was rudely woken by the telephone.