This week I have had three dreams and I have remembered each one vividly.
I was jolted awake by the first. Early last week I dreamt that a ginger man in a green nylon tracksuit was trying to burn our house down as we slept. When I awoke I wasn't sure if I had dreamt it or not. I lay for while trying to pull myself together in a cold sweat. Before settling back down to sleep I had to patrol the house like a member of the SAS, only they wear all black combat suits, I was wearing just a pair of big knickers to protect myself.
Last night I dreamt that the three year old had stopped breathing and I had forgotten any first aid I had ever learnt.
This dream was predetermined by the events of the previous day.
We had visited friends for Sunday dinner. The kids were introduced to Pacman on the super fandangled projector screen and they played with two puppies in front of a roaring log fire.
Before we ate the 3 year old fell on his knees knocking into the hearth of the fire. In pain, he got up crying and walked towards my husband. As my husband picked him up he arched his back, his eyes rolled back in his head and he went floppy. I lurched across the room towards my husband and boy just as he came round. Looking bewildered he started crying again. In total this event took less than 5 seconds from his inital fall. My husband and I were fairly shook up but put as he was OK put it down to fainting.
His day continued as before ... rolling around on the floor with the dogs, more Pacman, roast dinner, some shouting and chasing of dogs.
On the journey home I wondered what others would have done. I have friends who have taken their children to A&E for a simple fall or sniffle. If I followed that example I would live there.
I am fairly laid back but I started to wonder if I was too laid back. My intuition kept shouting at me that he was fine.
At work today I kept thinking about my dream. I wondered fleetingly if he might be passed out behind the OAP childminders sofa whilst I was sat typing away at my desk.
By 3pm I had rung the Dr's. At 5.15 pm I was sitting in the Dr's consultation room. My boy jumped up and down on the spot whilst I explained what had happened the previous day.
The Dr told me what I already knew. My boy had probably fainted due to the shock of hurting himself in front of a roaring fire and getting up too quickly. I was sent packing with a "GoodbyeseeyoulaterMrsD". The appointment lasted all of 60 seconds and I left the room feeling foolish, whilst my boy shouted 'Iapowaing' (translated means 'I am a Power Ranger').
The third dream ... oh god ... was AWFUL ...
On Friday night I dreamt I was being romanced by ... Freddie Starr. Yes, the short, portly, 66 year old comedian. Luckily the dream ended just before anything rude happened, but I still feel unclean.
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