Last night the family hamster mutated into a gigantic hairy beaver (of the rodent variety, NOT a vagina). He gnawed his way out of his cage and into youngest’s bedroom where he proceeded to try to eat the child whilst making the most terrifying screeching noise.

Yes. I am now doing item one on the list of the top three most excruciatingly dull things other people can do to you:

1.Tell you about their dreams

The others are:

2. Tell you about their kids

3. Show you pictures of their kids

What did it all MEAN guys? Why the beaver?

I have been pooing myself in public places for years. Tesco is a favourite location. Hotels and lifts feature regularly. Also my dead Grannie’s front room. And if I’ve ever been to your house, I will have done it on your carpet at some point.

This night-time incontinence problem has forced me into the world of dream analysis which tries to sound all sciencey and facty, but is really more like astrology in that it’s mainly practiced by velvet-clad loons with websites featuring stars and unicorns and dreamy music… But – it DOES help to discover you’re not the only person shitting yourself every night.

Poo mainly means money. Gwyneth (husband -see Living with Budgety Gwyn) loves this analysis. I don’t have to be awake to piss all our hard-earned dosh up the wall! I can also crap it out all over the place when I’m asleep!

Pooing can also be a sign that you need to get rid of something in your life that’s kind of…crappy. You can easily work out the crappy thing depending on who you are losing your shit with:

Pooing on your life-partner alot? That means IMMINENT DIVORCE (or supressed sexual fetish – there are websites for that).

Pooing on your boss? You GOTTA QUIT (or maybe just tell them to like, improve the cleanliness of the loos please).

Pooing on your kids? Well that’s just PAYBACK…

If you are doing a more generalised pooing thing (as I do), Gwyneth’s highly qualified and deeply insightful interpretation is that I am in fact, just full of shit…

Of course some dreams need no interpretation. For years after my mum died she’d turn up at the house, wearing the clothes we buried her in, all dusty and cobwebby as if she’d clawed her way out of the grave. She’d stand there on the doorstep, just staring at me with these terrifying black eyes.

Now then. I was heavily into Stephen King at the time and particularly Pet Cemetery where dead pets come back to life but all demonic and mental, which explains the hammer-horror imagery. But I don’t want to sound glib about this dream. It was genuinely really awful.

When a close friend died a few years ago, I dreamed of her vividly every night. It was so wonderful to see her. I’d tell her all about how her kids were doing and often we’d end up dancing together (a weird Bollywood-style dance which we NEVER did in real life, nor would ever have wanted to do but you know, it WAS a dream). I’d wake up elated to have been with her, and then of course, devasted to still be without her. Makes sense, right?

The curious thing is, after those dreams about my friend, I found Mum turning up again. But this time, she’s sitting outside my house in her car. I tear out there, fumbling at the passenger door and she’s wearing her normal jeans and looking at me with her normal eyes. I can’t believe it. We have a fag and I ask her if she knows about my kids and she says she does and she’s so proud of them and of me. We hug and say we love each other. And the first time it happened I woke up and thought: I have a new dream.

It’s good to have a new dream…

Oh, the beaver. So last night youngest went to his first Beavers meeting (the stage before cubs, scouts). He is not a very outdoorsy or joiny-clubby sort of kid. The plan was to try and encourage him into the world of NATURE and OTHER PEOPLE and away from sodding MINECRAFT. He loathed it. It was incredibly noisy and screechy, even for a noisy, screechy person like me. A bigger kid picked him up at one point and threw him to the ground. He cried. I wanted to throttle the bigger kid with his Beaver scarf and toggle. We came home. He played Minecraft.

Shit. I’ve now done item 2 on the excruciatingly dull list. I promise NEVER to do item 3.

Sleep well guys…