Bitch on the Blog

December 14, 2017


Don’t say my dreams aren’t amusing if draining.

Last night I fought two battles. The second vaguely baffling. As I was passing some restaurant on my way home I was offered a job to serve food at table. To start this instant. Typical. Ask me a favour, I’ll comply. Not that I was dressed for the job. My first customer’s order wasn’t for a meal, but some sort of whiskey on ice. It took me half an hour to fulfill the order, not least because it took me ages to open the bottle and then I had to find the ice. Meanwhile the clock, in my vision, was ticking. Then, somewhat belatedly, the actual bartender came to little rescue and it got worse from there. This is why I prefer daytime and wakening hours to slumber. Dreaming is stressful and you have no control over what the hell is going on.

My first [dream] however, did set me thinking. You know the third eye? Well, I had one. Right bang in the middle of, and between, my two “normal” eyes, slightly elevated on my foreheard. So far so good. However, I had to fight forces (in the dark) who told me all sorts of nonsense why I needed to give up my third eye, and what terrible things would befall me if I didn’t. I willed myself to wake up.



September 5, 2017

Let me bore you

“Listen to the whispers before they become shouts.” Excellent advice. Eternal optimist that I am I tend to wait till fate “shouts” at me – which will, naturally, take me by surprise. As I was [taken by surprise] in last night’s dream. It’s one of those that you’ll never forget because it seems poignant and has all the hallmarks of becoming one of those serial dreams which are most instructive.

Though, this minute, difficult to make head or tail of it despite the fact that it actually involved some strange birdlike blood thirsty creatures with both heads (well, mostly beaks) and tails. And bloody fast they were too. Most of the carnage took place in a bathroom, blood (mine) all over the place. The bind I was in that, desperately trying to fight off those suckers (screwing their heads into my flesh) and an impulse to flee, I had to decide whether to open the door to escape, thereby unleashing those little bastards onto everyone else in the vicinity (the bathroom was in a large department store, not dissimilar to Harrods) or stay put. To my shame I did open the door because I couldn’t stand it any longer. My ankles and lower legs in shreds already, my back and lower arms savaged several times.

As it turned out they were only after me, no one else got hurt. Well, that’s exclusivity for you. Or should that be “being targeted”. I didn’t feel flattered. I felt bewildered, not least because once unleashed into the open they largely lost interest in me too. Maybe, of course, that very last line holds the key (some key, part thereof) to what this dream was trying to tell me. If I take some of the dream interpretations you find online into account, then I better adjust my rear view mirror in case someone/something is sneaking up behind me. And don’t forget it all took place in a previously pristine bathroom … out of view of the public.

Sweethearts, thanks for listening. Tell me what you think or just tell me your own dreams even if, like Ramana, you can never remember them. Which, come to think of it, Ramana, most likely means that you are protecting yourself from what your subconscious is trying to tell you. It might make for a peaceful life but …

Jungian greetings,


August 23, 2017


Filed under: Atmosphere,dreams — bitchontheblog @ 20:09
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Apropos of nothing: What’s your nightmare scenario?

I have two: One which I relive a lot of nights in my dreams. Mainly that I always have to pack up (sometimes a whole house), never enough time to do so and even if I do manage to, just about, the car/train/whatever transport will be packed and I don’t have enough hands to handle it all. On a particularly good night’s sleep the platform’s number eludes me. Or my car’s axle breaks under the weight of the kitchen sink. The last scene I made up, the rest is true.

The second and worser than worse nightmare is being imprisoned. Considering how much I fear being locked up I fear for myself. Because, in my experience, that which we fear most will eventually look over our shoulder. Please do tell me otherwise whilst not neglecting to tell me (see above) your worst nightmare scenarios – or at least one of them.



May 6, 2017

Sea Change

Have you ever got lost? I don’t mean in the metaphorical sense but its literal meaning.

Were you frightened when you did? How old were you?

I got lost twice in my life. Once age six or so. In Berlin which we had just moved to. My mother asked me to go to the bakers to get some fresh rolls. Not only was I honoured to be trusted with such a task I found a bakery. Bought the rolls. A bag full to bursting point. With a smell to match. Came out of the shop and stood in wonderment. There were all these high rise buildings caving in on me. Which sort of gave me something to look up to whilst trying to work out whether to turn right, left or walk straight ahead. After the first minute of confusion had worn off I was perfectly happy. I had visions of never finding my family again, being adopted by a kind fairy and living a life of bliss. Alas, it was not to be. Once I had realized I couldn’t ask anyone to give me directions since I didn’t even know the name of the street we lived on I just relied on my innate sense of direction. High rise or not. Never told my mother. “What took you so long?”, she said. Some things best kept to oneself.

The second was not that long after, and yes, we had moved again, when we visited the sea side. There we were, complete with beach hut and I went for a swim with one of those pesky blow up rings round my body. Don’t trust salt water. And don’t lose yourself in reverie. By the time I got back to the shore my parents, their friends and one sibling (tiny) had gone. I took it in my stride. Fairy tales are full of children, abandoned. Main thing in life is to keep your nerve. And let little surprise you. As I was trying to work out where to go from where I was my poor mother and one of our friends were running down the promenade shouting my name. “Sonny, Sonny”.

Apparently the current had taken me further and further and further sideways.

So? Did/do you ever get lost?


August 11, 2013

Upside down

I dare say that, among all of you, I am the only one who can identify with this heartfelt sentiment (haven’t got the journalist’s name – June 2013):

“I started out in life with nothing. At 43 I still have most of it left. In terms of failure I am quite a success.”

Why am I laughing when I should be crying, not least because MY success trumps HIS in terms of age? As careers go I am the CEO and CFO of my life. The CFO largely sleeping on the job and my CMO (Chief Marketing Officer) should have long been fired. Yes, you can tell, can’t you: I am trying to show off my newly acquired business speak. Keeping up with the times, in-speak and all that.

If only I weren’t so marriage averse. God damn it. If I found myself either a Richard Gere or an Oil Sheikh I could afford myself the title of Head of M&A (Mergers and Acquisitions). And get dressed.

Yes, so if any of you want me to wait at your table I don’t come cheap but will service with a smile.


February 23, 2012

In your dreams

Filed under: Happiness — bitchontheblog @ 09:34
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Maybe simple  minds are easily pleased. I most certainly am constantly amused by all and sundry. I know I shouldn’t but I am. On the whole I try not to let on since, contrary to public protestations, a lot of people do have less of a sense of humour than they flatter themselves. There are people, say bloggers, who – if they knew how much they make me laugh and WHY – would call for lynching to be brought back into fashion. Or stoning. Mwah. Mwah. Mwah. Mwah.

Just came across some observations regarding all the reasons why your sleep pattern may not allow you to dream; reassuringly stating that there is a solution to every single one. Including to that of  “being a new parent”. Makes me smile. Once upon a very happy time I too was a new parent. A SOLUTION to sleeping at 2.5 hrs intervals max for the first few months? What’s the idea? What’s their suggestion? Infanticide? Over my dead body.


February 16, 2012

Frightened out of my wits

Filed under: Questions — bitchontheblog @ 10:45
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Should I get my head examined?

My dreams are so real, I wake up and find myself answering an email, or commenting on a blog post – neither of which exists. Am I going crazy? Last night  Phil “posted” an example of a moral dilemma similar to the one I outlined recently. On waking I saw his text in front of my mind’s eye as clear as if it were on the screen. HELP! It gets worse: Some of you had already “commented” on it. Again, what any of you “said” clearly imprinted on my brain. HELP!

I recently warned my father (I’d never tell my mother – she wouldn’t like it) that I might be going mad: In my sleep I write texts, black on white, as clear as if it were daylight. So far so nothing. However, and this is where even he went quiet: After waking I bloody remember the lot, word perfect. Is this normal? Maybe it doesn’t matter whether it’s normal or not. What’s normal anyway? Still, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I have three – irrational though not unreasonable – fears: And one of them is losing my sanity. I keep telling myself that there is no need to panic: I haven’t cut off one of my ears or kissed a horse in Turin – yet.


November 23, 2011

Going to the dogs

Filed under: Human condition — bitchontheblog @ 19:02

Trying to log on, as usual my mind doing its own thing completely ignoring what its purpose is and guess what: For a moment I couldn’t remember what my blog is called. Is it really that forgettable? Please do not answer the question since I never fish for compliments neither am I in any state to hear the truth. In fact, you’d do me a favour if you said: Yes, it is [forgettable].

Before I forget, since you may ask what my mind’s purpose is: It’s to follow the leader. I am the leader. Which is presumably why my mind pulls into the other direction to get me back on the path and sniff another tree.

Today’s interlude: Dreams (of the nightly variety). May you all lead a double life as I do. My days and nights seemingly interchangeable. My dreams being so vivid and REAL  I will wake not knowing, for a few seconds, who, where, what, how and when. I have deliberately not included  “why”.

Last night I was trying to stuff some loose and unruly white material and ribbons  into large square solid cardboard boxes.  Say 1.50 x 1.50 m. No sooner did I try to put the lid on the box  some of the material started floating out. And again and again. Nightmare. Since I never give up I must have been at it all night.

So come and have breakfast with me and tell me all about your nightly adventures.  Remember: Dreams are the digestive tract of our lives;  pointers, signposts to where lemmings will not go.

If you really must give thanks have some of my hugs and kisses,


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