Aggressive... who me?

Having active, and dare I say, aggressive, dreams is becoming a habit. Three weeks after gaining a black eye after grappling with dream terrorists on a cruise ship and ending up trying to subdue the bedside cabinet with my head, the night before last I dreamed about a woman threatening me. This time I ended up on the other side of the bed, snapped out of the dream by slamming into the wardrobe. The force of impact sent a floor to ceiling sheet of glass out of it’s sliding frame and into the wardrobe itself. There, it bent out of shape and one point dug into the carpeted floor. Luckily, apart from a slightly sore knee, I escaped unscathed. I shudder when I think what might had happened, had the glass shattered. As it was, my husband had a hard time straightening the door and getting it back into position. Various reasons are being offered to me for this unconscious behavior - astral travelling, repressed aggression, one of the characters I killed off in my books is haunting me, to eating cheese before going to bed and “I always knew you were mad, now you’re proving it.”

I’m not getting much sleep lately. Last night a marauding mosquito set its sights on me at 2.30 am. Luckily, it announce it’s arrival by singing in my ear. I went into commando mode. After creeping round the bedroom trying the squash it with a flapping slipper, it disappeared completely. After ten minutes on alert I drifted off to sleep, only to be woken by that dreaded whine again. The mozzie flew past my ear and settled on the wall. I took aim, and slapped. Missed! I swear I could hear it laughing as it disappeared again. One minute it was there, the next minute it was see-through. How do mozzies do that? I managed to get through the night huddled under the bedclothes, with my nose sticking out for air like a shark’s fin. Right, you little bugger, you’ve had your fun. Last night it was conventional warfare with the slapping slipper and today - duh-du-du-duh-duuuuuuugh...! Chemical spray.

Aggressive...who me?