Dance With Me.

I had a dream last night. In it was the perfect plot and set of characters for a novel I was working on, it would revolutionise the 'teen book market (even in dreams my ideas are adolescent).

Further into my dream I was in a crowded room; instead of the usual dream like state of nakedness, I dressed ridiculously complete with pink socks and a 'Dance With Me' T shirt. I had silly shoes which would not let me stop dancing and so I whizzed endlessly on one spot on a coloured-light-checkered-dance-floor.

The dream continued, and I made 2am phone calls to taxi's, only instead I woke up hard working friends out of deep and pleasant slumbers. When friends commented politely that I looked gorgeous I replied 'I know'.

I also dreamed that I had completely run out of steam, that I was no longer relevant or funny and that all my current affairs knowledge came from reading facebook and yahoo news; that and a sinister blog mite had slipped in and started its own surrealist nonsense.

But then I woke up and discovered it was all *a dream.

*Please excuse the state of this weeks blog, I am off to detox, sing with some monks, scout around the local vicinity for something to rant about, walk around town with a babyless buggy and will be back to my old self sometime next week.