Now that was odd. I haven’t eaten meat for seventeen years, apart from the odd bit of finely chopped bacon squirrelled into a salad in the US. I don’t miss meat, I don’t think about it, and I have no desire to eat it ever again.
But last night I dreamt about eating a huge plate of lamb! It was cooked in small chunks and dripping in dark gravy, a large pile of it sitting on its own on my plate. I was sitting opposite someone else eating the same dish and we started off talking to each other about how delicious it was as we both rapidly picked up pieces on our forks and placed them in our mouths. I had barely finished one piece before I was ramming the next one in. As I did so I explained to him that I hadn’t done this for a very, very long time.
But I started to feel queasy. The gravy started to feel slimy and over rich. The meat was feeling really heavy in my stomach and I was having trouble keeping it down. I kept eating despite really wanting to stop. There was this odd compulsion to keep doing something that I really wasn’t enjoying.
Oh, and another thing. I very rarely dream so goodness knows what this all means!