Don't Panic!
I could really do with my own Hitchhiker's Guide right now, to provide some useful tidbits of guidance as I move from work-life to student-life ... though the nearest thing to that at the moment would probably be an iPad with Wikipedia Mobile installed on it: just as informative but with all the presentation and flair of an MP.
Perhaps a Stephen Fry voice-over would go some way to perking it up a bit. Or an MP dosed up to the hilt on Pimms.
Since last Tuesday, when I actually succeeded in handing in my notice after weeks of dithering, I've had these little nagging thoughts at the back of my head as to how I'm going to survive. All those thoughts of not being able to get another job and how the bills are going to be paid, all jostling around in the background where I could ignore them until finally, during Friday night, they snuck into my dreams.
I don't know how many dreams I had, but the last one I remember was going back to a company I used to work for fifteen years ago and finding that it was still trundling along with the same old faces and a few new ones, but there were no positions for me to fill. They didn't even want a tea-boy and I make a mean cuppa ... and even better cakes!
Needless to say, I woke up Saturday in a bit of a panic.
In reality, it's not going to be a problem as the mortgage is low, all the loans can be paid off before Uni starts and goodness knows I can turn my hand to anything when the need arises ... assuming I can summon up some level of interest in it!
No, all things considered, it's not going to be a problem. Besides, I'd have far more to worry about if I were a sleep-walker...
Back in June, I went up to Scotland with a few of the family, to a place called Kinchellie Croft in Roy Bridge: a stunning area in the Highlands, north of Ben Nevis, where I developed the beginnings of my current strawberry-and-cream tan. Yes, a tan. In Scotland.
After a thirteen hour drive and not a lot of sleep, the first night there was guaranteed to be a good one. However, one thing I have found after having very little sleep (we're talking just a couple of hours in this case), is that I have an incredibly deep sleep accompanied by incredibly surreal dreams. And I do mean, surreal.
The dream was based around a production by the Centralian Players in which I had quite a big part to play. However, either there had been absolutely no time to rehearse or my mind had gone on a world cruise for the duration, as I had the script in front of me on opening night and it was like I was reading it for the first time. Panic stations!
All pretty straightforward, so far, but then this was when things started to get weird.
I don't know why I thought it, but I came to the conclusion that the 'family jewels' would bring me luck and, what the hell, they'll grow back ... at which point, I took a pair of scissors to them.
WTF?!?!?!
In one clean snip, I removed my precious bits from my body. No pain. No blood. Just a nicely sealed up wound as if I had always been gonad-less instead of mauled with a pair of kitchen scissors. I then proceeded to wander around, family jewels clutched in my hand as though they were the ultimate stress ball ... and other bits!
Admittedly, even in the dream, I was getting odd looks from everyone. Despite all this, I didn't have a problem because I was convinced they would grow back.
That is, until I looked in the mirror and saw the scar - a line that went from top-to-bottom of the groin area - and that's when real panic set in, not dream panic where you're stressing in the dream, but real panic that makes you wake up instantly in the absolute belief that everything you have just experienced was real.
Oooooooooh, the relief to find everything still intact!!!!
Perhaps a Stephen Fry voice-over would go some way to perking it up a bit. Or an MP dosed up to the hilt on Pimms.
Since last Tuesday, when I actually succeeded in handing in my notice after weeks of dithering, I've had these little nagging thoughts at the back of my head as to how I'm going to survive. All those thoughts of not being able to get another job and how the bills are going to be paid, all jostling around in the background where I could ignore them until finally, during Friday night, they snuck into my dreams.
I don't know how many dreams I had, but the last one I remember was going back to a company I used to work for fifteen years ago and finding that it was still trundling along with the same old faces and a few new ones, but there were no positions for me to fill. They didn't even want a tea-boy and I make a mean cuppa ... and even better cakes!
Needless to say, I woke up Saturday in a bit of a panic.
In reality, it's not going to be a problem as the mortgage is low, all the loans can be paid off before Uni starts and goodness knows I can turn my hand to anything when the need arises ... assuming I can summon up some level of interest in it!
No, all things considered, it's not going to be a problem. Besides, I'd have far more to worry about if I were a sleep-walker...
Back in June, I went up to Scotland with a few of the family, to a place called Kinchellie Croft in Roy Bridge: a stunning area in the Highlands, north of Ben Nevis, where I developed the beginnings of my current strawberry-and-cream tan. Yes, a tan. In Scotland.
After a thirteen hour drive and not a lot of sleep, the first night there was guaranteed to be a good one. However, one thing I have found after having very little sleep (we're talking just a couple of hours in this case), is that I have an incredibly deep sleep accompanied by incredibly surreal dreams. And I do mean, surreal.
The dream was based around a production by the Centralian Players in which I had quite a big part to play. However, either there had been absolutely no time to rehearse or my mind had gone on a world cruise for the duration, as I had the script in front of me on opening night and it was like I was reading it for the first time. Panic stations!
All pretty straightforward, so far, but then this was when things started to get weird.
I don't know why I thought it, but I came to the conclusion that the 'family jewels' would bring me luck and, what the hell, they'll grow back ... at which point, I took a pair of scissors to them.
WTF?!?!?!
In one clean snip, I removed my precious bits from my body. No pain. No blood. Just a nicely sealed up wound as if I had always been gonad-less instead of mauled with a pair of kitchen scissors. I then proceeded to wander around, family jewels clutched in my hand as though they were the ultimate stress ball ... and other bits!
Admittedly, even in the dream, I was getting odd looks from everyone. Despite all this, I didn't have a problem because I was convinced they would grow back.
That is, until I looked in the mirror and saw the scar - a line that went from top-to-bottom of the groin area - and that's when real panic set in, not dream panic where you're stressing in the dream, but real panic that makes you wake up instantly in the absolute belief that everything you have just experienced was real.
Oooooooooh, the relief to find everything still intact!!!!
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