I have arrived!

I am 32, female, 1 of a pair, we have a 15 month old boy, we're currently creating a patio so all that could change very soon. With our two cats we live in a valley in Northern England. Very strange things happen here. The area has been described as the English Klondyke but it's not quite as simple as that. My favourite things are.. can I take a rain check on that?

I'm thinking of running for a high ranking role in the Ministry of Pistachio, once I've settled on a manifesto that will actually mean something valuable to people. I do want to be a force for good, not just another carpet-bagger.

My favourite writers are (yawn) Thomas Hardy, Emily and Charlotte Bronte, Yukio Mishima, and I like the gothic type scary stories of the likes of Sheridan Le Fanu and M R James. Big fleshy spiders - that kind of thing.

My favourite thing is a good night's sleep.

I have a recurring nightmare, this probably says more about me than I can.

In the garden of the house where I grew up and my father still lives, in amongst what is just a shrubbery in this realm, there is a trap-door. I come upon it and then the memory returns of what it leads to. I hesitate to open it because I remember that is the secret place where I used to keep my pets and, when I left home some years ago, I completely forgot about them. I think about what I might find down there now and the unfeasible thought that some of them might still be alive but on the brink forces me to go down through this tunnel that's dug out of the soil. When I get into the large underground apartment there are rows of tables with cages on them and a couple with fish tanks on them. I roam about checking their contents. Most of it is pitiful beyond expression. Little skeletons in boxes half gnawed through in desperation. Evidence of rampant breeding then cannibalism in some cages, when there's straw and food in bags that nobody ever used because nobody else knew about this place. The fish tanks are rank and opaque, with the occasional occupant gasping and floating on it's side in the scum. I go around trying to feed where feeding is needed or just let the poor little sods out but the guilt is almost driving me to just walk away. The ones still living are reproachments. It goes on like that. Trying to nurture and restore creatures knowing that the very shock of the interruption to their stagnation could kill them. Them watching me with their eyes that have gone beyond death and suffering because of me. I am talking neglect on a cosmic scale. I think maybe it would be kinder to make my mission one of mercy killing but life, even like this, is life. As if small rodents and fish weren't bad enough, not the last recurrence but the one before, there was a cage with starving lions in it and another with humans in it, adult humans and the quandry there was, can I open both their cages, will the lions be too weak to eat the humans before I can take care of them all.

I know this is a dream about motherhood, I've figured that much out, but it still wont go away even though I've sussed it.

That's me.

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