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I had a terrifying dream last night. You know the ones where you think you’ve had an argument with someone and it’s so vivid you wake up thinking it was real?  Don’t worry, I know it’s boring to tell people about your dreams so I’m not going to witter on about the dream itself.

The main problem is that I didn’t realize that I hadn’t actually had this argument. And I’m not an argumentative person. Most of the time. Sure, I get riled. And then blog about it on The Camel’s Hump. But real, personal, horridly confrontational rows I can’t do. I just cry.

So I’ve spent the day being quite reflective and even, in my head whilst doing all the stuff which I needed to do today, carrying on the argument to a satisfactory conclusion in my head.  I hate it when I do this because

a)      It puts me in a really bad mood

b)      It makes me think of wonderful things that I should have said hours after

          the time has passed to say them

c)       It makes me want to pick a row with someone, anyone; and

d)       It’s stupid.

And the friend I’ve had a row of gargantuan proportions with inside my head doesn’t even know that I’m so cross and upset. Because it didn’t happen. And because I’m so annoyed I haven’t picked up the phone or sent an email today.

I think in this situation ignorance really is bliss. Unless I’m wrong, of course, and a little voodoo doll of me is being stuck with pins and denied wine Somewhere in England.

The denying of the wine would be a worse punishment, by the way. Just in case you ever need to know that information.