Of dreams and dreamies

Last night's dream: I was due on stage -- some kind of big break -- but was let through a door to reach backstage but instead I found myself on the street outside, and couldn't get back in to the building. Dreams like this most nights at the moment. 

Up and after going outside to check on the tomatoes, which makes Lorraine laugh, had breakfast and after Lorraine left, I sat at my desk, where the keyboard was decorated with Calliope's Dreamies vomit. Fortunately this was dry. Worked on podcast, the poems that have suddenly emerged, and the children's story. A lunchtime walk over Hollingbury in the sunshine. 

Lorraine home at a decent time, and we had a pleasant evening eating chicken and corn on the cob. She is doing cross stitching patterns all the time, and is finding it incredibly therapeutic, and she is getting really good at them. Lorraine wanted to watch Death in Paradise again, which I'll admit to being curiously comforting.