Note: This post should have been before the one below and gives some background to the one below.

He phoned about 6.  I asked where he was.  At home.  His home, I asked?  Yes.  To be honest, I was very excited.  Excited about seeing him and being with him again.  I didn’t want to let him go.

But, as is normal for any situation, the anticipation was far better than the actual event.  It wasn’t a disaster merely a little disappointing; a bit of a let down.  We didn’t argue, exactly, but it was, probably, the closest we’ve come to it.  Later, we tried to book the flights for the wedding at the end of July.  Easyjet have stopped the cheap flights to Bristol, it would seem, making it all much more difficult (and expensive).

So, that was a bit of a let down too – because, in the end we didn’t book anything and the internet connection wasn’t working well.

We go to bed and watch a bit of TV.  I rest my head on his chest as his arm is around me.  Eventually (about midnight) we go to sleep.

The problem started (or continued) about 3 a.m.  I woke up.  I woke up because I had had dreams.  Three to be precise.  Then I decided I needed to go to the bathroom.  When I came back I just couldn’t get back to sleep – the dreams haunting me and also the need to have something to drink which, I was hoping, would not be a barrier to me getting back to sleep.

But it was.

Or the dreams were.

Or whatever.

Since it’s been some time since I’ve had ‘bad’ dreams, I thought I would try and tell you now.  But now is too late since I have already forgotten all but one.  Here goes anyway:

Dream 1 was about V.  It was a bad dream but, since I don’t actually remember what happened, I don’t know why.  Given that we’ve been having a sort of text discussion recently where he has been his usual self, I guess that’s the reason for the dream.

Dream 2 was much more memorable or real.  I got an email or a letter from some insurance company telling me that they had paid the hostage money but that there was an excess to pay of €34,000 which they had charged to my credit card.  As this was a dream, we’ll ignore the fact that this would be impossible since the impossible can happen in dreams.  I wasn’t worried (in the dream) as a) the hostages were nothing to do with me and b) how were they going to charge my credit card?

The next thing to happen (in my dream) was that the credit card statement came and, indeed, showed that over €34,000 had been charged.  I was, of course, outraged.  F was there and so was another friend who was a woman and a cross between N and L.  Certainly they were American.

They were on the phone to the card company to try and sort it out but the card company were saying they had valid authorisation and I realised I was stuck between some sort of scam and, being in Italy, the intransigence of Italian bureaucracy – this would take years and I couldn’t just say ‘oh fuck it’ and go back to the UK ‘cos F was there and I wanted to stay.

Dream 3 I can’t remember at all but it was just as bad.

Anyway, after lying there for a bit, being all fidgety and waking F up several times, I decided that the ‘wanting a drink’ thing wasn’t going anywhere and that I should get a drink.  So I get up and get one and sit at the computer and potter about having several cigarettes and feeling bad because the dreams were bad and had put me in a bad mood and because F was sharing my bed it meant that I couldn’t possibly go back there because I would keep waking him up with my restlessness.

However, about 4.40 I realised I could only get another hours worth of sleep and so I went back anyway.  And, you know how it is, once you know you only have one hour left and therefore you try so hard to get to sleep, you find it more impossible to sleep and so, apart from an occasional doze, I stayed awake until the alarm went off.

And at one point, after 4.40, I turned and rested my hand on F’s side and after a few seconds he brushed it away saying that he couldn’t sleep if I touched him and I thought that, sometimes, this is a bit one-sided and I didn’t like that much either.  And so all-in-all a rough evening/night – and I don’t even know why!