Oo-er. Last night I had a dream about blogging. Yes, blogging.
I was in a large room, like the lounge of a pub, with lots of seating and tables, and the room was sub-divided by panels and pot-plants and the like. It was very crowded, and I realised that I was at a meeting of bloggers. I knew (in the way that in dreams you just know something) that Chris Mounsey (of Devil's Kitchen) was there, as was Guido Fawkes, and someone from the famous Bishop Norton blog (I think I was conflating Bishop Hill with a village in Lincolnshire near where I used to live). There was lots of noisy chat, and I knew I was in exalted company. Old Holborn was there in his mask, and there was a lady sitting at a table amongst a group of women that I was sure was Juliette.
Bishop Norton kindly offered to give me some advice on how to make my blog more relevant and interesting, but when I went to the room he suggested for a quiet chat, he sent one of his minions, a girl called Anna, who was very tall and solidly-built (in real life, this girl works at the meat counter of my local supermarket). She told me my blog was dull and that I should stop writing things about myself and do more on current affairs and political scoops. I felt ashamed of my self-centredness and lack of talent.
The dream ended when the cat managed to open the bedroom door and did a triple pike with twist and reverse somersault from the wardrobe and landed on my stomach.
I'm still not sure I know what to make of it.
(I read once that people don't dream in colour. This one was most certainly in colour, but the colours were muted, as if the atmosphere was very smoky. Just sayin'.)