When my nephew was little, he sometimes used to wake up and announce that he had had “foxy dreams”, by which he meant nightmares. (By the way, the term nightmare has no connection with a female horse but come from an Old English word meaning demon or goblin. Personally I prefer my nephew’s term, which I feel perfectly sums up the furry, feral, predatory nature of a lot of my odder dreams.)
Last night I had a foxy dream about sleeping in a tent at a festival. I knew I had to get up to go and meet my friends, but in my dream I felt so exhausted and my bed was so deliciously comfortable that all I wanted to do was go back to sleep. (Incidentally. I wonder what would have happened if I’d gone back to sleep in my dream. Would I have dreamt that I was dreaming, and what would that have been like? But I digress.)
This morning on my walk to the station I became aware that all is not right. I’ve got no physical energy, my throat is sore and I’m running a slight temperature. My subconscious was clearly trying to point this out to me through my dream and encouraging me to stay in bed. Alas, my conscious has several appointments and deadlines today and therefore is route marching my weary body into the office. It’s a shame that our culture is not one which puts more emphasis on dreams; if so, “I’m sorry, I had a foxy dream about going back to sleep so I think I’d better do that ” would be a perfectly acceptable excuse for not going into the office, and then I could follow my subconscious mind’s instructions and stay in bed today.