I’ve been reading
again which is something I have missed. With deadlines at uni and my
eagerness renting DVDs from lovefilm...I have not taken much time to
read. Reading relaxes me before bedtime and leaves me with exciting
dreams. Because I am reading more, I feel the urge to write more. I
really want to improve my writing skills so as I waited for my train
today I decided to do some fictional writing. I will post my work on here so I
can see how I improve.
My
train was 9 minutes delayed, but in an unusual way I enjoyed waiting.
Watching
the people around as they realised the time expected was slowly
getting longer, I felt a sense of excitement. Who would be the first
to act out? Overcome with rage at the prospect of being late for work
? Who would refuse to wait any more and stalk off seeking other
routes of transport?
A
woman in a yellow coat caught my eye, she was dialling someone- would
it be to tell them of her disrupted schedule?
I
was right, it was.
“Pam,
its me. Listen I’m going to be late, the train is delayed and they
haven’t given us reason why of course.....if I’m not there before
ten can you let the client know...Thanks Pam, hopefully see you
soon.”
The
woman in yellow had been very efficient. She hadn't been angry or in
any way distressed, she had simply spoken with a tone of exasperation
that meant the situation was out of her control and this type of
thing was a nuisance she was unfortunately familiar with.
I
didn't have anyone to ring as I wasn't expected anywhere. In a sad
way I wished I had the option to make someone aware of my delayed
expectancy time.
I
rarely made appointments any more.
I
went through a stage of enjoying the doctors. I almost went on a
weekly basis. Various reasons bought me there, mainly my nervous
disposition and my unnatural fear of traffic.
Councilling
seemed to be the option the doctors were keen to enforce on me. So I
went to councilling for a while but the tasks Malcolm set me at the
end of each session were always so ridiculous that I stopped
attending after a few weeks.
Malcolm
believed in dream therapy and was keen for me to try some of his
methods. At the end of my second session with him he told me to go
home that night and dream of the motorway. I told him Id never been
on the motorway so therefore did not know what it was like. He told
me to envision how I 'thought' the motorway looked. He then asked me
to be very specific and even imagine how I thought the motorway
smelt. Again I said I didn't know because Id never been on a
motorway. He told me to use my imagination so I answered it would
smell like burnt tyres. Then he told me to imagine I was standing in
the middle of the motorway and the cars were comfortably passing by
me and I was content. I asked him why I would be standing there and
he told me 'it wasn't important'. Then he started telling me how I
should be subconsciously controlling my breathing while I am dreaming
but my mind wandered onto the reasons I would be standing in the
middle of traffic. I concluded I must be trying to kill myself and
that made me sad and anxious. Malcolm told me to calm down.
That
night I tried dreaming of the motorway but found my dream interrupted
by a 'little chef' that kept appearing and distracting me. Even
though I’ve never been on the motorway, I still know there are
stop-offs with motels and cafés and I know there is a place called
'little chef' because my friend once met a man from the internet in
one. Janine had met this man on a dating website then arranged to
meet him at a location that was equal distance between her house and
his. This meeting in the middle fell on the A5 with the nearest
pit-stop being that café. Apparently Janine had an apple pie then
followed the man to the toilets where they had sex. After the pie and
sex she got back in her car and drove back home. I didn't ask her if
she saw him again but I’m pretty sure it was just a one off type
acquaintance.
