As seems to be a theme lately I spent much of Sunday asleep. Whereas normally I seem to dream reassuringly bonkers stuff, today I had no less than three rather disappointingly obvious anxiety dreams about the fact that I'm leaving work in two weeks' time with nothing concrete to go on to. Funny, 'cause when I'm awake so far I've not panicked about it, but obviously when I'm asleep it's on my mind.
First up, last night I dreamed I was cutting my fingernails. While I was clipping the middle finger of my right hand, the nail split precisely in three, with straight lines running down the nail. Two of the pieces came right off, leaving a sliver of nail along the side. The bare patch of skin felt tender but not painful, and I was left wondering whether to try and pull off the remaining piece as well.
Then I had an afternoon nap and dreamed I was in the office on a Monday, on the phone to a very angry customer who was demanding I get hold of back issues of some obscure magazine for the last couple of months. She's phoned every single Monday asking for the same thing, and even though I'd called the publisher every week to be told they pulped the old issues and didn't have any stock, the customer was telling me to keep calling them and get hold of the issues from somewhere.
Finally, I woke up from my nap and promptly fell back asleep again to find myself having successfully left work and produced one play, and having on the back of it been commissioned by some reputably company (possibly the Young Vic) to direct a new musical they were putting on. I think one of the characters was a kid because we were at a primary school looking for child actors. The school was a series of virtually identical, interconnected buildings that felt familiar, either because it was a mix of different buildings in reality or because I've dreamt it before. I needed the loo (at least that's realistic) but not particularly urgently. I'd entered the building about halfway along and was moving towards the reception area. There wasn't a gents' where I expected it, so I ended up back at reception where there were two small toilets up a step. But when I went into the gents' it was full of old packing material and I couldn't use it, so had to try and find somewhere else.
Funnily enough, although they're all pretty classic anxiety scenarios, I didn't feel particularly stressed by any of them, except a bit during the middle one. Maybe that's a good sign? Stressful times ahead but I can cope with them? Answers on a postcard or an "internet."