A collection of dreams contributed to this website during the height of the 2020 pandemic

Here’s a selection of your dreams from the second lockdown

Gap year

I was on a gap year with a former real-life colleague and we were making our way to teaching posts in another part of the world. I accompanied him to northern Italy, although it could have been Nepal, and the school where he was teaching was extremely high up, next to a ruined church, on an incredibly steep road with scary switchbacks. I remember feeling bad that he had been posted somewhere like this, which did not look very promising. I wished him good luck and then I found myself looking at his viewpoint from the top. The view more than made up for the journey, he said. But the school was bare concrete and metal poles and the children were not keen on learning. I then found myself in my accommodation which was one large open-plan room with a lavatory in the corner. It was like something from the 1950s and my mother was sitting in a high-backed armchair asking what had taken me so long.


I was at a children’s birthday party, sitting at the back while the kids were being entertained by someone who turned out to be my ex-partner in a clown suit. Afterwards, when the children were running around letting off steam in the garden, he cornered me and began to try and have a serious conversation, not realising how ridiculous he looked with green curly hair and a false forehead with five, deep, horizontal wrinkles etched across it. He became angry with me for laughing at him.


I dreamt I was staying in a seedy motel room, the kind you see in an American film or television series when the main character is on the run. I was sitting on the bed when the Guardian columnist and environmentalist George Monbiot came in through the door. The room was on the ground floor and he came in unannounced. He was out of breath. He said he was on the run from some nasty people and needed to go in hiding. I told him he could stay with me in the room but he would have to sleep on top of the covers and I would sleep underneath. He did so and made no attempt to get in the bed with me. I dreamt that I woke up, feeling relieved that he was still on top of the covers yet at the same time wondering if he found me unattractive.

Here’s a selection of your dreams during the first lockdown.


Brilliant dream last night. The curate and I were personal assistants to the royal family. But oddly our job seemed to involve stopping them being killed by terrorists when they left the palace to go to school or church. The finale was coordinating the Queen’s wedding outside a church. It rained, so they got married in the porch with the congregation outside. Meanwhile assassins were trying to attack and it was my job to stop them. And all the way through I couldn’t understand why it was my responsibility, there were no professional bodyguards to be found! Ah well, back to the day job this morning – working out how to keep people safe in church.


I was being chased through underground tunnels and corridors by bad men waving the virus. I was in long corridors with locked doorways. I was desperately trying to find the key and when I found it I realised the door lock had already been removed but I still ‘unlocked’ it with the key.


I dreamed I had been invited on the Oprey Winfrey Show to be interviewed but I was late arriving. I had to negotiate lots of 1960s tower blocks, stairwells and grubby city outskirts to get there. I reached the television studios and I wasn’t entirely happy with how I looked so I stopped in an old-fashioned department store, with lots of mahogany rails, on the ground floor on the studio building to look for something else to wear. I couldn’t find anything so had to make do with what I’d chosen – a vintage dress and jacket in red and blue that I’d bought from a charity shop in France. I looked for the stairs and when I found them they didn’t go anywhere. I’d turn the corner and then hit a blank wall. This happened several times and a shop assistant pointed to someone I knew from Bridport who was going up a staircase. The assistant said that was the right way. Then I was in a bare corridor on the next floor and it was long, painted a glossy white, with no windows and lit lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling. I was aware that I hadn’t put any make up on but there weren’t any mirrors. I reapplied my lipstick but I wasn’t confident I’d put it on properly. I was also trying to put on blusher with a very thin brush. The corridor got narrower, the time was coming up to seven o’clock and the show’s theme started at the end of the corridor. As I got closer, people lined the route clapping. Then I entered a studio and I was live on air. Oprah rose from her seat and muttered something like ‘skin of teeth’, did a double take at my lipstick, smiled at the audience and invited me to sit down. I wasn’t worried about the interview, just what I looked like.


I woke up with a saying in my head: ‘Never put your tablecloth in your back pocket.’ I don’t remember anything else about the dream, just that.

football conspiracy

I dreamed that Alex Ferguson started coronavirus so Liverpool wouldn’t win the league. Apparently he said when he started managing Manchester United that he was ‘going to knock the Liver Bird off its perch’.

my old boss

In my dream I met up with my old boss who had previously made me redundant. He told me that there was a job for me so I started back to work. But several people advised caution as they were worried he might do the dirty again. Having started back at work, one evening we were travelling in separate cars. He was with his wife in one car and I and other colleagues were in other vehicles. We drove into a town in torrential rain and the roads were becoming flooded . I remember looking out of my car window at his car and saw that the car was filling with flood water and the next minute the car just disappeared. Back in the office no trace of his car or him or his wife could be found. They had just disappeared. Some time later, I found myself in the same area of the town. I was sitting down pondering what had happened and I looked at a spot in the road and what seemed like a whirlpool appeared. I thought maybe that’s where their car disappeared and they were drowned, never to be seen again. With that, the roadside bank began to crumble and his car reappeared. My old boss and his wife were sitting in the car. I went over and said I thought they were dead and asked where had they been. They said they were disappearing and I hadn’t seen them. The wife looked at me, smiled and winked, and with that they just drove off.

Butch cassidy and the sundance grigg

I was having a business meeting with a female colleague. We were drinking tea or coffee in a café. She was looking at her mobile phone and saw something that alarmed her. ‘I’m in big trouble,’ she said. ‘I need to get away. Can you help me?’ We went out by a side door and she peered around the corner of the building to where the main entrance of the café was. She said ‘They are there already. What can we do’ She looked terrified. I cautiously peered round and saw a group of five or six people, men and women, lining up to get into the café. They had thunderous looks on their faces. The car park was right behind them so there was no escape that way. I said: ‘You need to run.’ We ran together to get as far away as possible but, after a while we got tired. The colleague was really distraught and I realised she was relying on me to get her out of her predicament. I said I thought we could not just keep running. We had to play smart, keep away from roads as the pursuers would have an advantage if they had cars. We should keep changing direction and try to stay away from open spaces. However, we were in a big open field (for some reason I knew we were in Somerset) and getting tired because it was uphill. On our right was a big hedge and a drop down into a river so we couldn’t go that way. On the left about 200-300 yards away was a railway line on a ridge. We had to keep going straight but I could see there was a big steel fence ahead of us, like a prison barrier. I thought we would have to go back towards the danger but I did not want to say anything as the woman was so obviously terrified. I felt I needed to come up with a plan but just kept on going more in hope than anything else. As we got close to the fence, I saw some wires had been cut in the fence and there was a gap big enough to crawl through. On the other side we were in a completely different world. It looked like Switzerland. There were mountains, a pine forest and a little village by a river. The woman was euphoric as if we had escaped but I suddenly felt uneasy. Before I had just been helping her but now I thought the pursuers were also after me. She ran down into the village and went into an open air café full of people and sat on a table in the middle. I followed. Suddenly she became Maddie Grigg and she said: ‘Nobody will find me here. It’s safe.’ I was less sure and told her we couldn’t stay there. ‘It only takes one person passing by to recognise you and we will be in danger,’ I said. Some music started up and she got to her feet and I realised she was about to sing. I was panic-stricken. ‘Maddie, don’t sing.’ I shouted. Then I woke up. (It should have been The Sound of Music playing but I don’t think it was, sadly).


I was going away with three other men, including my stepson, for a weekend. We were travelling by car and camping or staying at B&Bs. Some of the four had limited amounts of money so were keen to camp as opposed to going into a B&B which I wanted to do. They were desperate to eat and it was getting dark. There was no plan as to where we were going to stay, they had no idea what they were going to do and it was getting late and we were driving along a narrow main road and going up and down bit like a roller coaster. One had a map and kept saying we were on the right road – right road to where I don’t know – but the other was saying it wasn’t because it was too narrow. My stepson was being as good as gold.We drove into a small village and there were roadworks going on and we had to stop. The road was raised up, dropping away either side. We were the only car there. A road digger came along in the opposite direction digging up that side of the road and I could see the road was going to collapse and we were going to fall into the ditch.


I was in the car on my own driving near the coast up a country lane. It was daytime. I went around the corner and suddenly the road went up a slope and was a mass of snow and ice which had fallen off the roofs of two thatched houses. I needed to get to the coast so  I reversed down the road and saw another track and took that. It went up a hill and ended at a semi-derelict house. I couldn’t drive any further, so I picked my way through the house and saw a path. I walked along it and continued walking along a hill. I came across an old outside toilet, which was stinking but the path went through it so I had to go through, holding my nose. I finally reached the coast and released I was in Eastern Europe. I looked down on to the sea from quite a height and I couldn’t believe how clear the water was. I wanted to jump in it. Normally, looking at water from a height you can’t see the bottom but you could see the pebbles on the bottom, the water was that crystal clear. I ran down the path and jumped into the sea.


I am at some sort of party with a group of friends. We’ve all been staying at a hotel together. The party is full of foreigners and is being given by one of them for a birthday or some private celebration. I realise very suddenly that it’s got very late and that all my friends have gone. I’m standing up with a drink in my hand and someone I don’t know but who I think is Bulgarian comes up and starts chatting. He’s very friendly and compliments me on being able to party so late. I realise then that everyone there is much younger so I say nonchalantly: ‘Oh well I could really party late back in my day and I still enjoy it from time to time.’ But I’m thinking I need to go as I don’t know anyone there and it’s about 1.30 in the morning. Before I go I see some cheese on a plate and think I’ll have some as it has been a drinks party with hardly any food. I cut up the cheese into bits on a plastic table cover and try to pick it up to eat it but it sticks to the table. I try to scrape it up with the knife but it crumbles and won’t leave the table so I bend down and scoop it into my mouth. It’s dry and horrible so I give up.  Time to go. At this point I start to worry about my hotel accommodation as I’ve become detached from my group. I worry about whether I have my room key and find there is a plastic room card in my top pocket. It has no room number on it so I’m wondering if I can remember it after a few drinks. I think the number is 385 but I’m not sure so I search through my pockets to see if it is written anywhere. I find a card from the hotel with the number 803 printed on it. I think – ‘not bad. I got some of the numbers right.’ I leave and find myself in Guernsey (where I come from) but I realise the hotel is on Herm (another island). I think the last boat will have gone but I go to the harbour anyway. I walk out on to the pier and see there’s some activity and a small boat is coming in. I can see its lights in the dark. I hear the pilot of the boat having a conversation with the harbour master. It appears the man on the boat has forgotten to bring something from Herm and the harbour master tells him he will have to go back to get it. This is my chance, I think, and ask the pilot if he can take me and he says yes. However, suddenly I’m in a taxi. He’s the driver and I realise I never specified to him where I was going. It occurs to me he is driving to the airport and I’m thinking it will be too late to get a flight (Herm has no airport in any case). I’m also suddenly realising something I had totally forgotten. Our group had been told by our hotel we would have to move out and find other accommodation for one night so I have nowhere to go.  I’m now in the taxi going away from St Peter Port, which is where I have the best chance of finding a room, and I feel frustrated as I’m just wasting time going to the airport and back in the middle of the night. I then think – just sit back and enjoy the ride. At least you’ll see some familiar places from your childhood. I see a sign saying ‘St Saviours’ so I know I’m near the airport and it doesn’t seem to have taken long. The taxi stops at a junction and I see my ex-wife going into the entrance of a building. She is in our group so I think this may be where we all have rooms so I ask the driver to let me out. I ask my ex-wife if there are rooms at the hotel, which now seems closed up for the night, and she say she doesn’t know and that I should ask. I say I think the staff have all gone and she says she had just seen someone so she is sure they are still there. She goes off to her room and I peer through an internal window but it’s dark and I can’t see anything. Just then a woman comes out of the office door with her coat on and locks up. I intercept her and ask in my most grovelling voice if there might not be a room for me. She says they are full so I ask if there is anywhere else I might find one. She looks doubtful but then says – I do know there is one room left at ‘Rose’. She says it is not far and takes me to the door to show me. She points just down the road to some buildings and says ‘Rose is there.’  I look doubtful so she says she will take me. But I then realise I have taken my shoes off and left them by the reception so I tell her I have to go back and get them.  I start putting them on but she has already left so I rush after her without having had time to do the laces up so I’m shuffling along awkwardly. She is still ahead of me but points to a building on the left as she passes it and says ‘That’s Rose.’ I look and it seems to be a large block of offices and apartments with no sign of a hotel. It is down some steps and I see some names in the glass above the door of some of the entrances. One of them says ‘Rose Claire’ and one says ‘Elsie’. But neither looks like a hotel entrance so I go down the steps and round the corner to see if I can find it. I can’t so I think I should try ‘Rose Claire’ but when I go back it is not there any more.


It’s a big birthday this year. In my dream I told my husband I wanted a party with a famous band, and I was getting Mott the Hoople. He was very scathing and thought they were all dead. Anyway Ian Hunter turned up (with three unknowns) and I said to my husband: ‘See, he’s not bad for 79.’


I dreamt last night that I was in a field and there were snakeshead fritillary flowers everywhere but the flower heads had shed their skins like they were actually made of snakeskin. There was flower snakeskin all over the field.


 I always have weird and wonderful dreams! Sometimes I remember them, sometimes I don’t. Last night I dreamt I was at Hogwarts during the last battle. My son was Harry Potter and he was duelling Voldemort who looked like Hagrid, after Dumbledore had been betrayed by McGonagall.


I had super vivid dreams for the first couple of weeks of lockdown. Often two or three a night that I was still aware of when I first woke. All of them were chaotic and what I call ‘busy dreams’, lots of running from place to place and trying to complete never ending tasks. Much frustration and stress in them plus a random cast of past and present characters, some of whom I’d prefer never to think of again!


I was sitting on a deck chair on a white sandy beach. The chair and I, gradually then immediately, sank all the way below the sand.


I dreamed I’d found the cure for Covid-19. It involves felling a giant bamboo that grows at the rate of three feet a day… I think this was down to reading The Big Bad Book of Botany before I went to sleep. The spooky part is that my neighbour also dreamed that Bamboo is involved in a cure for Covid-19. But then he’s been involved in a long running battle with bamboo which has taken over his garden.


Last night I was making a film with Ryan Gosling. One scene was in an arcade and I found loads of money on the floor, and one two dollar bill.


I keep dreaming I am being chased. Last night I teamed up with a load of gangsters who were just like real-life versions of The Ant Hill Mob who drove the Number 7 car in the cartoon show, Wacky Races. We were actually in that car being pursued by the police. I was instructed to ‘go for the feet’ so pushed one foot through the floor of the car as if I were riding a child’s scooter. We were going really fast but the jagged metal hurt my ankle.


I went into the village shop where I work and there were two tills instead of one. One of them was broken and was full of coins but only pennies and two pence pieces.


I was driving in North Devon looking for a job and it was raining heavily. As part of the interview, I was challenged to find a boyfriend by midnight. But any potential ones I found all turned out to be rotters. About one minute before midnight, a young man with black curly hair and a lovely smile gave me his business card, which said ‘A Boyfriend’. Then a man and woman came into the room I was now in, with a form I had to sign to say I had a boyfriend. The next day in my dream, I was on a train that split and when I looked out of the window of my part of the train, there were high seas, with icebergs. But the dream me wasn’t anxious as I was going to a new job as a newspaper reporter on the Shetland Islands.


Boris came on television and said we could go all out in the car with members of our family if you used one of the contraptions he had designed. It was like a huge plastic octopus with tubes for legs, these tubes had mouthpieces which every member of the family had to put in their mouths then in the middle of the contraption was a very long tube reaching up to the sky for fresh, virus-free air. Boris decreed we all had to have open top cars to enable this to work and if you didn’t have an open top he said you were stuffed.


A friend dreamed the Microsoft paperclip guy came to his house. He was genuinely anxious because he didn’t know what to feed it. He wrote about the dream on his Facebook page. That night, I dreamed that Paperclip Guy came to visit me in my garden, hand-in-hand with the first dreamer who introduced the visitor to me and my husband. Paperclip Guy uncoiled himself and lay out on a sun lounger and quite happily enjoyed a cream tea. I remember being so overjoyed that Paperclip Guy was in my garden that I didn’t see what he put first on his scone – jam or cream.


I dreamed I was picking up three passengers in my car to go to a business conference in London. I hadn’t meet the people before but had seen their request online for lifts. They were lawyers who worked in different places (I am not a lawyer nor was I in the dream). I went to the first office which was like that clifftop hotel (is it in Newquay? It’s the one featured in The Witches film). There was a short, steep drive to the entrance, which was like Eype’s Mouth Hotel, and the car was in too high a gear to get around without clunking. The first passenger wasn’t there and then my dream cut to him in an office inside, completely oblivious to the conference he was meant to be attending. I waited in the car for a while but then drove on to pick up the second passenger from a walled city. He was a tall man called Will who was also a lawyer (I have no idea who this person is). Then a friend of mine (who is not a lawyer) got into the front passenger seat and the back came off it. She was prodding about trying to get the seat pins into a hole. Then she changed into a different friend who couldn’t stop laughing at the fact my car was falling apart. There was concern from the passengers about my car as it was too small for Will’s legs and bits of the vehicle were falling off, as if it were a clown’s car. We were already late because I had waited for the first passenger who somehow was now in the car. I set off at speed in the dark on a motorway. It was raining. I put my foot down, overtaking at 110 mph, despite not being able to see what was ahead. After overtaking I came to my senses and cut my speed so we made steady progress. But we never made the conference because I woke up.


I dreamed I was taking the dogs out. It was on the outskirts of Bogota so I needed them to be on their leads. I lost one of them but then she turned up and carried on walking and was in danger of going out on a busy road. I was hoarse with calling her but she eventually turned round at the last minute and walked back to have her lead put on. Later, I was filling up a disused swimming pool to bath some children. I remember shampooing a small boy’s hair and he was really good about putting his head back so the soap didn’t go in his eyes. Later, I was making my way to the city, without the dogs and now in a car. A colleague was in another car. We’d been sent to the centre to report on some political vote. But there was anarchy in the city and it was difficult to get through. The colleague went on because we were meant to be reporting at an election count. I had to try to get into the centre under my own steam. There were lots of police officers standing six feet apart in a maze of roofless corridors and I had to show my pass to each one. I heard my colleague over someone’s walkie-talkie saying that he wanted to know if I’d reached the centre. I hadn’t. It switched to a scene where I was trying to find my car as I had forgotten where I had parked it. I found that I had crashed it earlier in my journey when I was taking Keir Starmer and Michael Portillo along the coast road to Weymouth. The car had ploughed through a tarpaulin that I thought had been covering the swimming pool where I had washed the child’s hair. It was actually covering a cemetery. At the scene was the city police chief, the late actor Robert Loggia, who said I’d ploughed into the cemetery and churned up the graves including his mother-in-law’s but that was all right because she was a satanist. Then he said he would escort me into the city centre in time for the vote.


I dreamed I was in a warehouse-type store with lots of independent traders. It was in Bridport and the stallholders were Bohemian, arty and snooty. I remember wandering around looking at ornaments on the shelves which had been made by the stallholders. They weren’t very good and the price tags on them were huge – £1,000-plus for a small piece of pottery. The shoppers were all being sycophantic and I couldn’t believe that no-one was complaining about the high prices. It was almost as if they feared being laughed at as philistines. I remember wandering around a vintage clothing section. The woman behind the counter had lots of long, curly black hair and a pink bandana. She was smoking and her face was obscured by a fog of smoke. I looked at things on the tightly-packed rails but decided against trying anything on. Her assistant sneered at me and said: ‘Oh, can’t you afford it?’. I said the prices were ridiculously inflated, especially as everything smelled of stale cigarette smoke. The woman behind the counter became angry and asked me to leave. I said that was fine because she was ripping people off and she ought to be ashamed of herself. The other shoppers were open-mouthed with embarrassment. Then I found myself in a deserted piece of wasteland in the centre of Plymouth. It was dark and I didn’t know how I was going to get home. At that point, a large, old-fashioned charabanc appeared. It was full of colourfully-dressed people and the driver asked if I would like a lift. I said yes, because the wasteland felt so sinister.

herding cats

I dreamed I had moved to a new house. I wanted to live in a more rural area near the sea so we moved to a remote part of Dorset. When we got there, it was two rows of 1940s/50s houses at a right angle to the coast. You could hear and smell the sea. The house I had bought with my husband was tall and very much in need of repair. The doors were hanging off their hinges and an exterior staircase, like a wooden ladder, was riddled with woodworm. I was climbing up it and cried out for help because my feet were falling through it and it was swinging backwards and forwards. The house was untidy and my husband was furious that a family of cats had moved in since we first viewed it. There was a litter of three kittens – a tortoiseshell, a black one and a brownish one – wandering around. I asked a lot of people who were in the garden partying if they wanted one but they didn’t. I was quite keen on keeping the tortoiseshell but my husband didn’t want it. Then I found a second set of kittens, exactly the same colours but several months older and bigger. A woman from the garden asked me if she could come in the house as she was bored and it was too hot outside. I didn’t want her to come in because the house was a mess but she insisted. Inside, there were piles of washing all over the house. I wanted to tidy up and give everything a good clean but she kept talking as if she needed me to entertain her. My son and daughter, who in real life are adults, were both small children and playing on the floor. My son looked at me, holding one of the kittens, and asked me why the woman was in our house.


I was at school, but it was a new school. I didn’t have the right uniform, and I had to sit my final exams but the timetable I had wasn’t right for them. And to top it off, everyone was me… the teachers, the other students, my mother… all looked liked me.


I was sitting around the breakfast table when our former county councillor turned up and sat down with my husband and me. He was full of a story he had heard that had happened at West Bay the day before. He was going on and on about it but I already knew because I had been there when it happened. A digger was pulled out of the mud, in the corner of the harbour nearest the church, by a much bigger digger. I can remember the sound the water from the submerged digger made as it was being lifted higher. I could see there was a body in the digger. Someone had been trapped when it submerged and had drowned. The councillor told me that firemen had to grease the inside of the cab to get the body out. All my husband could do was say I should write about it because I could win £20,000. I remember being cross with him for being mercenary when someone had died and we should be quietly paying our respects rather than trying to profit from the situation.


For some reason I was looking at buying a new house, in West Auckland, on the coast. The house I was being shown by someone I used to work with (in nothing like this capacity), looked lovely from the outside: big, light and airy. When we went inside it was a rabbit warren of small dark rooms, even though I could still see lots of windows. Then to seal the deal he presented me with this big polished pale greeny-blue rock. It was about the height of a toilet, but round, and somehow it swivelled, even though it was just one piece. It had a hollow in the top. It puzzled me how he managed to carry the rock, and also in the other hand maiden hair fern (not in a pot), to set into the hollow. And why did I get the house?!

it’s the wolf

I dreamed I was back in a previous workplace. I was working for someone I didn’t like very much, a boss who micro-managed and did not trust her staff to get on with their jobs. In my dream, she was very tall, as if she were standing on the shoulders of someone else covered up by a Burberry mac. She had her own face but looked like Jarra, the tall alien mastermind in Men in Black II. In the film, he is revealed to be a small alien riding a miniature flying saucer, with mini clones hiding under the coat. I was wandering through a labyrinth of tunnels behind a stage where a performance was going on. At the same time, I was being shadowed by a large wolf, which was exactly like one I had conjured up on my phone with Google 3D early on in lockdown. At times, it felt like the wolf was my protector but then it changed into my boss. I woke up feeling unsettled and confused.


I dreamed I was in the corner of a small department store, on the first floor, looking at two raincoats on a circular rail with a view to trying them on. The store was an old fashioned one like Fields of Sidmouth. I had lots of bags, luggage I think, and a backpack, which I gave to my son to look after. He was about seven and not 31 as he will be on Monday. The first raincoat was white with a small flower pattern. I took it from the rail, looked at it and decided not to try it on because it looked boring. The second one, though, was a gorgeous poppy red and looked and felt lovely and smelled fresh, like the inside of a new car. I put it on and my son smiled and said: ‘Yes, that’s the one.’ It made me feel positive and colourful. A near neighbour of mine – a man – came up the stairs in short and flipflops and laughed and said with a sneer: ‘What do you think you look like?’ And I remember not caring what he thought, because I looked and felt wonderful.


I dreamed we moved house. It was a new one with no maintenance needed. It was in a new area and so exciting. The feeling of relief stayed with me all day yesterday.


I was in my mother’s house, in the kitchen (not her house and she is actually no longer alive) and she had notices up everywhere. She said these were for AirBnB guests. I was surprised but walked into the bathroom and there were piles of baby clothes on dryers and in baskets. There was a baby in the wash basket and when I picked her up she was like a sand-filled rag doll made of silicone. 
She started to move and nuzzled to my breast which I knew wouldn’t work so I tried to distract her by snatching up a small black cloche hat and put it on her head. She jumped down, became a toddler and ran off down a passage which became lower and lower, a bit like the rabbit hole of Alice in Wonderland, and I realised I couldn’t follow her. She then transformed into a black chicken and jumped up onto a wall. 
Two men (no idea who they were, and with no distinguishing characteristics) returned the ‘chicken’ to me in a duvet bag, dragging it across the floor. I was very agitated as I realised that she was a baby not a chicken and could be hurt! 


I was walking through London and I saw my friend, Holly. She said she was waiting to go on a blind date as she’d divorced her husband (they are happily married). Her blind date was Danish actor and musician Claes Bang. She then invited the comedian Jimmy Carr to come on a double date with us. I was also walking along carrying a kitten that I had found in the garage of our family home that I still lived in and my deceased parents were there, alive and well. I ended up in bed with Claes Bang. I then went back home and was left in charge of looking after the family cats but they ran away and a load of new cats moved in…. then I woke up. This is a fairly normal dream for me.


I marinated, cooked and ate a friend of mine. I remember the marinade was quite a complicated recipe…

On a Friday night I dreamt that I was teaching my wife how to spatchcock a chicken, and she was actually really interested (which is how I know it was a dream!).

My boyfriend dreamed he was a roast potato.

UP CLOSE AND personal

Not long after this all started when the Government were asking for volunteers to work in the NHS I dreamt that Prince Harry volunteered. I went to the doctor for my smear and, yes, it was the Prince doing it. And this is the vivid part: I can remember the look of disgust on his face when he was down there. I can only assume it was because I have had two children or the beauty salons are all closed and my Jemima needs re-sequinning. My normal dreams are about spreadsheets….


Last night I dreamed I had to demolish Portishead so I could have a new development somewhere else (sad, work-based dreams) then I had to swim across the sea to get there and although I can’t swim I was managing it but it was quite difficult as the waves kept going over my head.


I can only remember one ‘weird’ dream that I’ve had since the pandemic started, it was that I was friends with Donald Trump (no lie!). 

All I can remember from my Trump dream was that I was friends with him, and I can remember his face being orange – as in fake tan orange, and he had white eyes, as if he had applied his fake tan with sunglasses on, and (weirdly enough), he was short – nearer to my height of 5’2″! And the whole time, his facial expression was his customary resting bitch face.


In last night’s lockdown dream, I was standing in a travel agency, already subconsciously maintaining a two-metre distance from the woman seated behind the desk. I *think* the dream me was wearing a cumbersome suit made of stapled-together egg cartons. For some reason, the purpose of my visit was to tell the travel agent how much I loved the rock band Black Midi, but in the dream I loved them so much that I kept crying every time I tried to speak, so I ended up performing an elaborate and interminable mime while she nodded and took notes. Then a subtitle appeared at the bottom of my dream, which read ‘I love Black Midi’, so I pointed at that.


Last night I dreamed I was being menaced by three orbs in the sky and they were coloured red, white and blue. I saw these orbs from a window in my digs in the town where the dream me was working. There were shouts from the street below and on investigation it appeared that someone up to no good had been transported up into one of these orbs. The next thing I know is that my landlady, who was in her late forties, appeared in my bedroom in a long, see-through nightie, which made me feel uncomfortable. Then I was walking in a country park with my younger brother and we saw these orbs in the sky and he started to run across the fields. It was pouring with rain and I shouted at him not to run because I thought the orbs were going to get him. It was a ploughed field, the mud was sticky and wet and l lost my shoes chasing after my brother.

If you’d like to share your lockdown dreams, please get in touch. I’d love to hear from you. The stories from our unconscious minds need to be documented as well as our actions and feelings during this crisis.