dreams – Page 3 – A Dad trying to cope with the loss of his Partner and becoming a single parent.

Posted on May 21, 2020 by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 46 Comments

Chaos Theory

Guard duty…

Scrap the guard duty, is that a biscuit I can smell….

I think we all have that sixth sense. Mine kicked in during the early hours. Son had just popped his head round the bedroom door.

“Are you awake Dad?”

At the time I was reading about chaos theory. Got to explain my cooking disasters somehow.

“I’ve got a question in my head and I can’t sleep.”

Sixth sense fully kicked in. My mind better get up to speed quickly.

“It’s to do with the Royal Family and the rules surrounding the line of Succession.”

Relief as I feared a bird and the bees type question.

“I’m guessing my question won’t be adequately covered in the Succession to the Crown Act”

Must admit in all my many years, I still haven’t got round to reading that real page turner.

“I bet the Act doesn’t reflect the progress made in genetics, physics and quantum theory.”

No, I think that is a safe bet. Already my mind is braced for impact. A wander into his world is truly joyous but often feels like my mind isn’t quite able to take it all in. Maybe a bit like a modern and much safer version of a Psychedelic Trip.

“Ok the rules on succession are quite straightforward and a lot fairer now. But what happens if we spiced it up a bit. What happens if through the advancement in genetics we managed to bring back a former King or Queen. Or maybe we develop time travel and can bring forward a previous monarch. A King or Queen who didn’t lose the throne in battle. Say Henry V or Queen Victoria. So the question is…. Would they still have a claim to the throne. Maybe it would lead to a civil war between those supporting the current monarch and those supporting Henry V or Victoria. Victoria won’t be best pleased with the current state of her empire. Henry V will be distinctly horrified at the current leadership of the country.”

And with that mind altering nugget he went back to sleep on it. Suddenly chaos theory seems so clear now.

Posted on April 27, 2020 by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 71 Comments

Random memories

Today’s mobile phone, out of focus, wildlife photo. Another bird flying.

Another night and another bizarre dream. An LP (yes vinyl) was being released and I wanted to make sure I got a copy. So I camped out overnight outside a small record shop. During the increasingly wet and cold night the public telephone (just a few paces away) kept ringing. When I picked it up I could hear my partner at the other end, but she couldn’t hear me. Finally the record store opened and I walked in to find that what was the towns only music shop had been turned into a hairdressers…..

The record store in my dream was one from my past. I lived in a small seaside town which had few record store options. We had a Woolworths which was great for a few compilation records and those bizarre records that had the hit songs on but always performed by not the real artists. We had a Boots the chemist which sold a few records but only those from the likes of Sinatra or Shirley Bassey. Boots never allowed you to return records if they were scratched. Thankfully the town also had a little record store. A small ground floor, with an even more cramped first floor attic. The store was next to the towns Bus Station. Tony’s Records was my Saturday Mecca. I would spend hours pouring over album covers, carefully working out which record to buy.

Got so many memories from Tony’s. That time I bought a Mountain Live double LP. It was reduced due to a few minor scratches. Basically every song was unplayable accept one. Thankfully that one song, Nantucket Sleighride lasted 24 minutes. For those of a certain age in the UK, that song was the theme tune to the Sunday political show – Weekend World. I did get to see Mountain play that song live at my first ever music festival at Knebworth.

I remember Peter Cook and Dudley Moore bringing out the Derek and Clive records. Painfully funny but shocking. That bad you had to be over 18 to buy it. Tony’s wouldn’t sell it to me so I asked my mum. Nine the wiser she strolled into the store. The look my mum must have got when she asked if they had a copy of Ad Nauseum.

I bought my first cd from Tony’s. It was Rory Gallagher. Bizarrely I didn’t actually buy my first CD player for another year. I just couldn’t afford one. I just wanted to have one of those circular works of high magic.

That little shop closed down many years ago, but clearly it’s still going in my dreams

Posted on April 10, 2020 by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 89 Comments

Standards

Just as many of the daffodils start to die back a few late developers are just coming into bloom. I noticed these two early this morning as I came outside to clear my head after a dream.

I had one of those really bizarre dreams. The kind which you have no idea where the brain dragged that one from. I was trying to drive a lorry pulling a massive prefabricated building. For some reason the building still had all the cups and plates wracked up in the little kitchen. So I was instructed to drive carefully and for every broken item I would have money deducted from my wage. I somehow managed to get my load stuck in a muddy friend surrounded by Emus and talking sheep. I was attacked by the big birds so I had to take shelter on top of the prefab building.

What on earth was that one about…..

Anyone who has seen me drive will realise I am the last person you would trust to drive that load. The odd dream did remind me of a very old University incident. Our team had just won a 5 aside footy tournament and we went off to celebrate. We certainly did celebrate. None of the team can remember much past 8pm but I had clearly decided some time in the early hours that it was a sensible idea to fall asleep on top of one of the university’s prefab lecture rooms. For some reason I had brought a large road sign with me for company. When I finally came to my senses I realised that it was morning and a lecture was in progress just a few feet below me. I could here the lecture rather clearly. Embarrassingly it was a lecture I should have been in. I listened for a while but then my pressing need for the toilet took precedent. Unfortunately the only safe route down was on the window side of the lecture room. A few hours later I was talking with a girl who was in that very lecture. She said that during the lecture the students in her section could hear a rather ghostly snoring noise coming from above them. Then she heard the snoring ghost clearly swear which prompted the lecturer to warn the class about bad behaviour. Then it all went quiet until the sound of movement and scraping could be clearly heard from the roof. Whatever was above her was moving towards the windows. A large road sign then appeared to the thrown to the ground. Then seconds later a rather deshelved character swung his legs over the roof edge. Another loud expletive and the legs disappeared again. The sound or more footsteps on the roof. Then a sports bag wizzed passed the window, followed closely by clearly disheveled person hurtling towards the ground at a surprising uncontrolled rate. An audible groan was then followed by another load expletive. I was then seen hurrying in the general direction of the toilets, carrying what appeared to be a large metal sign….

How on earth did I get an honours degree. Just shows you the decline in UK education standards. Thankfully standards are not being lowered in the daffodil world.

Please note I have not touched a drop of alcohol since 2016…..

Posted on March 28, 2020 by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 102 Comments

Hotel Window

Another cold start. I’m calling it an official three jumper day.

One of those cold starts that as hard as you work out, or regardless of how many warm layers you put on – your still cold.

The first week of schools version of homeschooling has now finished. Some subjects did embrace the opportunity. These offered the child a chance to be creative and to see where their learning interest would take them. Sadly that was not much of the week. Most of the lessons reflected the normal parrot learning teaching approach. What is the point of getting someone with dyslexia to translate page after page of French (without any context or help). What is the point of setting an online spelling test where the spoken words are so rare that I had to look every one up in a dictionary to see if they actually existed.

But he survived. The parent got through it as well. So that’s something.

Whether it was my lack of sleep, the unremittingly grim news or a week of homeschooling but last night I couldn’t get a thought out of my mind. Maybe, just maybe this is our world now. No more holidays. No more new lands. No more Switzerland. Certainly the financial shock of the next few months will take me a number of years to repair the bank balance. Generally travel may become more difficult over the next few years. Aspergers and the fear of social interactions is certainly not going away any time soon. So maybe that’s it with travel.

That’s sad but actually there is more to life than travel. So much to see and visit close by if it comes to that. Anyway we have not had a holiday since 2015 so we are used to it anyway. Doing virtual tours is a fun, safe, environmentally friendly and is so much cheaper. Then a thought crossed my mind. It was inspired by Basil Fawlty (John Cleese) while we watched Fawlty Towers. Basil was getting seriously cheesed off with a guest who was disappointed with the view from the bedroom window.

“Well may I ask what you expected to see out of a Torquay hotel bedroom window? Sydney Opera House perhaps? The Hanging Gardens of Babylon? Herds of wildebeest sweeping majestically”

Actually could we scale the virtual tours up a notch. Why don’t I pick a window with a chair next to it. Then why don’t I stick a poster or large photo over the window glass. Suddenly my view of say the trampoline could be transformed into whatever I fancy. I’ve seen other people do this in the past. So tomorrow I am going poster hunting. Got a couple of belting posters of The Alps to find.. But in the meantime I’m hoping my bedroom window will look something like this.

Posted on March 13, 2020 by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 80 Comments

Tree

Last night I had one of those dreams. That type of dream that leaves me breathless and unnerved for hours. Unable to sleep until after 3am then startled back into sleeplessness forty minutes later. All because I blogged briefly about throwing my knickers at Tom Jones.

I was walking across farmers fields. I was in agony as I was walking barefoot and the ground was rock hard with frost. With every step I seemed to tread on another sharp thorn. On my MP3 player was one song on repeat. Green Green Grass of Home. I was heading towards one tree. A tree on top of a small hill. The only tree on that hill. The closer I got the ground became more painful. Then the heavens opened and it started to rain increasingly hard. So hard my skin started to sting. Then I arrived at the small tree. A hangman’s noose swaying slowly in the wind.

That was clearly enough for me as I suddenly bailed out of that fun little dream.

Green Green Grass of Home was one of my mums favourite songs. You would often walk through her front door and hear Tom beautifully signing this song. The song written by Curly Putman was one of her favourite sad songs. It’s all about a man facing his last night on death row.

In the shade of that old oak tree
As they lay me neath the green, green grass of home.

What’s the lesson from this nightmare.

Is it

I really should stop blogging as it gives me nightmares.

Next time I do have to throw my knickers at Tom.

Posted on March 12, 2020 by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 95 Comments

Pot of gold

As a kid I remember my parents telling me about the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. The catch was that you had to run real fast as the Leprechauns would only wait long enough to down one Guinness. I didn’t fancy my chances today. Looks like the rainbow is at least three farm fields away. That includes the field with the giant, bad tempered bull and a large stream with the missing bridge (didn’t survive the last flood). Maybe next time.

Yes I know the Apple Tree needs a good trim. In my defence the last time I tried the tree fought back. I lost and ended up in the Accident Unit with an eye ball cut. Since then our only set of ladders has fallen apart. Replacement ones have to get in line with the other essential purchases. It’s going to be a long wait. With the pesky virus likely to significantly curtail my zero based hours contract, things are going to get tighter for a few months. A pot of gold in the garden would be nice. Knowing our luck it will end up on top of the Apple Tree and we won’t be able to reach it. Who needs money anyway. No guarantee that it buys you happiness. Look at the poor Leprechauns. An eternity just protecting a pot of gold. As good as a pint of Guinness is – surely there is more to life than that.

It was such a disappointment when I found out the science of rainbows. That’s another childhood belief which turns out to be a fairy tale. A large list of shattered dreams.

Rainbow Pot of Gold,
Easter Bunny,
Father Christmas,
Fairy rings,
Dragons,
Lightning was an angry dragon,
Tooth fairy,
Magic,
Man in the moon.

As I grew older more and more childhood beliefs went bust. The magic and awe in life slowly ebbing away. But to quote the XFILES – I Want to Believe. So I grimly hold onto the few which are still left. Ignoring the clear science because I Want to Believe. So in my eyes the Loch Ness Monster is still a possibility. Maybe a dino living in a deep loch cavern. My head wants to myth bust yet the heart still dreams of a Scottish Dragon.

The loss of magic and awe is a bummer. It’s a bummer for our son as well. I remember that dreaded Santa chat with the floods of tears. My tears as well. I remember the sadness of life unpicking childhood beliefs. I can see the same pain in our son. With his Aspergers traits he latches strongly onto these myths. They bring much needed warmth and magic to this cold, unforgiving alien world. I’ve told him that it’s always his choice what he believes or doesn’t believe in. Christmas now is not seen in terms of the magic of Santa but in the magic of Christmas. Some will say it’s bad parenting not to immediately disprove these fables. My take is life can be unremittingly grim, a little bit of hope, a sprinkle of magic can lift the heart. It’s good to dream. It’s lifts the heart and feeds the imagination. And just maybe brings a pot of gold.

Posted on March 9, 2020 by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 63 Comments

Dreams pesky dreams

If I was a flower I wonder what dreams I would have.

Before my partner died I would have the occasional dream that I could remember, but not that often. My sleep would be disrupted but usually by our son. Plus back then, when there are two of you can take turns on the sleepless shifts.

Then after my partner died sleep became increasingly disrupted. Son has always had an interesting sleep pattern. Whatever we have tried has never managed to change that. Eventually the health professionals just called it – it is how it is for him, it works for him, so just run with it. Basically his mind and body are too active for sleep anything south of midnight. He will usually fall asleep between midnight and 1am. Then he will sleep until 6am until his mind and body kick into active mode again. When he was younger he would constantly wake during that time, so one of us would need to be with him to get him back to sleep. But as he’s got older he more often than not sleeps through. A couple of times a week he will still wake and I get the night visits. Checking I’m still here, wanting an answer to a question or wanting to tell me a fact.

Dad Harold (that’s Harold II) was not the last english Saxon king. William beat Harold on the 14 October 1066 but wasn’t officially crowned until the 25 December. In theory Edgar Atheling (Edgar II) was king. He had the strongest blood claim to the throne. Night Dad.

But as our son’s sleep has stabilised my dream pattern has increasingly disrupted mine. It takes an age for me to get to sleep then all to quickly a vivid dream wakes me and then that’s usually it for the night – no more sleep.

The dreams have also changed. I have had three distinct dream stages. Each stage has its own unique dream type – each night its the same sort of dream.

The reliving fond memories stage. This was the nicest, yet saddest stage. The dreams would relive completely accurately lovely memories. Maybe a holiday trip, a birthday, an early date with my partner, finding out when we we’re going to be a family….

The bizarre memory stage. Then suddenly the dreams changed. They still were based on fond memories but always morphed in some bizarre way. A dream about a lovely family trip to a petting zoo, but in the dream the cute little animals were replaced by dinosaurs – we still petted them. A dream about sledging with son on one of our few proper snow days. But in the dream the white snow had become pink.

The current dream stage. The weird/unsettling dreams. No more dreams based on real life memories. Just unsettling made up dreams. Last night for example my partner (who was pregnant) and I had gone shopping in this made up out of town shopping complex. We had gone into a huge furnishing store. We found some items we needed and I went looking for a shopping trolley. Couldn’t find any trolleys inside, so I looked out in the car park. Still no trolleys. So I walked across to the next store which was a supermarket (ASDA). They had trolleys but they needed a coin to release them. None of my coins would work. I then couldn’t find our car to get more coins. So I ran down a short slip road to the next group of shops. Here the trolleys were all vandalised. I ran down another slip road to the another shop which was a huge DIY store. They had trolleys but they wouldn’t push correctly. It took all my strength to move them a few inches. Finally I found an electronics shop which had trolleys that worked. But now as hard as I tried I just couldn’t find my way back to the first store with my partner who would be getting increasingly annoyed with me. I was now completely lost and in full panic mode. Then I woke up. Now I was completely unsettled and that was it for sleep. Too tired to read or blog. So all I could manage was to watch crappy TV and listen for the clock to tick round until son woke up.

I look back with fondness at those memory dreams. Even those bizarre Dino type memory dreams. Yes they could be sad but they where a wonderful gateway into the past. But these current dreams I really hate. No sweet memories here just my brain finding new ways to unsettle my soul. Sleep is now something I desperately need, yet I struggle to do it. It is also becoming something which brings me nothing but stress. I hate being stuck in this ever decreasing sleepless circle.

Posted on February 4, 2020 by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 41 Comments

Reminders

Last night I struggled to get any sleep. I managed to nod off once but woke all too soon. A strange dream about an old job, not being able to find a meeting room and Donald Trump as my boss woke me with a start. That was it. Facing another walking zombie day. My mind wandered to my partner. In the last few years of her life my partner suffered from insomnia. She could sleep for a couple of hours during the day but frustratingly not at night. So many late night television sessions. It was so tough for her. If she could cope with years of this then I can cope with just one sleep deprived night.

So lack of sleep brought back strong memories of my soulmate but that’s not a nice memory. So let’s balance that out with some happier memory prompts.

Sunsets. My partner loved sunsets. The slightest sign of red in the sky and she would be outside.

Ronan Keating and his songs When you say nothing at all and Life is a rollercoaster. Always brings a smile. I took her twice to see Ronan in concert. Whisper that quietly or my metal head credibility is blown out of the water. At the first concert it felt like I was the only male in the crowd. My partner thought it was so funny seeing me squirm and hide under the chair.

Asparagus. Her favourite food. Asparagus with a touch of butter and nothing else. I don’t buy the stuff anymore but it always makes me smile when I see it.

Stella Artois. Every time I see that lager my mind goes back to our first holiday together. We had an overnight stay in London waiting for an early morning Eurostar train. In a packed London pub we drunk a few too many Stella’s. With perfect timing to coincide with the place falling silent my partner asked loudly ‘if I was the only vegetable in the family’. No I wasn’t the only vegetable in the family but I definitely was the only vegetarian.

Babylon 5. She loved this show. She would watch it while I chuntered on about it being a poor mans Star Trek and could we would the X-files. We still have all the DVDs. They make me smile when I see the box but they certainly are not getting played again.

See the perfect match.

Posted on January 17, 2020 by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 65 Comments

2003

2003. A time before parenting. A happy dreaming couple. A time when digital photography was still seen as the work of the devil by many. When a mobile phone was just that – a mobile phone – nothing else. My football team was still playing in the European Champions League.

31st May 2003. As the local paper described it. A once in a lifetime opportunity. The chance to see a 90% solar eclipse. Two problems

The peak eclipse would happen dead on sunrise. Best viewed from the East Coast.
This is Yorkshire.

Yorkshire does many things well. Cricket, Rhubard, Beer, Ferrets, Terriers, Chocolate, Moody Moors. We also do lots of cloud and rain. We don’t really do sun – bit of a bugger when your looking forward to a solar eclipse.

With a wing and a prayer we set off for the coast at 3am. Arriving at Scarborough an hour later. People looking out across the sea. Just before sunrise it’s hard to tell if the clouds have formed.

The first signs of morning and we wait with baited breath. Will the Sun appear.

As the sunrise time came still no sign of the sun. Maybe too much sea mist.

Then at 4.36am a thin red strip of sun appears. The crowd let’s out a huge cheer. Some hardy folk jump into the sea for a swim.

Unbelievably the infamous Yorkshire weather was playing ball today. Not a cloud in the sky.

As the Sun continued to rise a beautiful red then orange water path virtually led the way to the eclipse. Someone had brought a ghetto blaster and almost hypnotic music drifted across the morning air. The dreaming couple talked about an adventure to a far off land to see a full eclipse one day. One day.

17 years later. The Yorkshire weather is certainly not playing ball. I came across these photos looking for my birth certificate. They instantly took me back to that time of dreams and a truly magical partial eclipse.

One more little miracle. A photo involving me. A photo I can sign up to. So to those who have asked for a picture. Ok here it is.. Me back in 2003.

Posted on November 5, 2019 by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 80 Comments

Thirty Minutes

About a month a go I visited the Moorlands Nature Reserve. It’s a small but ever so beautiful piece of nature on the edge of the city. After years of driving past it and thinking ‘must go there’ – I finally found the time. Really pleased I made myself stop the car and go for it.

Well another work visit to the City. Work completed sooner than expected. So a spare 30 minutes before I head for the school run. No better use of that time than another walk round the Reserve.

The colours have so changed in just one month.

Countless studies have shown the positive impact nature can have on a persons wellbeing and stress levels. I’m no statistician but I confirm that even just 30 minutes is just so uplifting.

I just love the beautiful carvings which are dotted around the reserve. The old 14th century acorn quote is brilliant. We can make a difference. Seemingly small and modest things can grow into something impressive given time and patience.

I really need to make a date to come and look at that quote every single month. Yes seemingly small changes in my lifestyle can have a significant impact. The garden can be made into our own little nature reserve. I can make a difference. Son can achieve his dreams. I can do this. He can do this. We can do this.