… not for those who are squeamish about snakes!
I have a corn snake – that’s her/him (I don’t know which) above, called Sam. S/he is in the dream but is very real.
So, in the dream, I meet Lewis Hamilton, who also owns a corn snake, which, for some unknown reason, I borrow. Maybe I was in a devil my care mood, I don’t know, but I also ordered one to be delivered with my weekly shop. A bigger, more aggressive one. A Python.
It cost me £175. That seemed to be my biggest concern.
So now I had three snakes.
I was somewhere but couldn’t say where – there were lots of people around, somehow connected with F1 but not in the pits – which would have been apt, since the snakes were roaming around quite happily – but which is strange because a) Sam is kept in a tank (that’s her/his odd day out, in the paddling pool) for fear of her/him burrowing into a sofa and having to be cut free – as happened to the friends we re-homed her/him for – and b) no-one seemed to mind.
I did try putting them all in the tank, but they were escape artists.
Then another, smaller but pretty, snake appeared. Lewis assured me it wasn’t poisonous (because tiny and pretty = deadly).
Lewis was wrong. There was much hissing and slithering as the big snakes all tried to get away from the tiddler.
And then I woke up.
Freud had a theory about the interpretation of dreams. I wonder what he’d make of this one?
I own a snake. I’d been reading about Formula One beginning on Sunday week.
I think that’s about it.