Ghosts in the machine

Last night I woke up in bed and realised someone was lying next to me. Someone very close to my heart. I could feel her breathing 2 inches from my face, her hand lightly in mine. I lay there for a few minutes hardly believing it, and checking that I really was awake – that it wasn’t a dream. As I reached to curl my fingers more tightly around her hand and move my lips closer to hers I started to wake up.

The transition from lying in a darkened room ‘awake’ (but together) to lying a darkened room awake (but alone) was so smooth that I consciously experienced the sensation of both seeing and feeling someone vanish in front of you. As you reach for them they become insubstantial your fingers slide around them somehow, the outline of their face against the dark ceiling becomes softer and slides into the shadows, and suddenly you’re actually really awake and, of course, despite the best assurances of your sleeping mind, actually really all on your own.

It took me nearly 2½ hours to get back to sleep, so now I’m exhausted as well as bummed. I mean – it’s bad enough having to think about this stuff all the time when you’re awake. Bed, sleep, dreams, this is my refuge, but the enemy has broached the gates. Here’s the problem - it feels real in the dream, you believe it emotionally, so when you wake up you *feel* as if it really is real, even as you understand intellectually that it’s just a dream.

I can’t believe I’m such a fool as to manage to find a way to make myself feel depressed and isolated about people who never even existed, but, to quote, “Oh yes, I’m twice the fool to do that”.

Gelatine

There was about another 800 words here but I deleted them when I worked out what they were really saying : “I hate the way I look, but I’m too lazy to do anything about it”. Nobody wants to read about that. Apart from the 5% who actually *do* go to the gym on a regular basis, and the 10% who are actually young enough and slim enough not to have to worry about it we are all in the same boat. The fat boat of lardy layabouts.

Look at us all, desperately pulling in that gut and trying not to think about how your beer roll makes your trousers hang at an angle. I’m mean I’m only 11 stone (about 150lb) and 5’ 10” so it’s not like I’m blotting out the sun or anything, but still. I feel bad, therefore in my mind I look bad, regardless of whether I really do or not, and if you don’t fancy yourself no-one else is going to do it for you (above mentioned freaks excluded.

So off to the gym (yeah right) and start eating properly. The last 24 hours has seen Pan consume (in sequence) :-

1 x Gin & Tonic
1 x glass of red wine
1 x portion meatballs
1 x portion couscous
1 x espresso
1 x piece of cheese
1 x portion angel delight w’ half fat milk
½ bottle Lucozade
1 x cup apple flavoured fizzy drink from vending machine
1 x portion roast gammon
1 x portion red cabbage
1 x portion roast potatoes
1 x tarte tatin
1 x cup of coffee
1 x chocolate biscuit
1 x cup of earl grey