This is a dreamy post.

I like to imagine that most people have at least a vague idea of the things they want to do in the time they have on this planet. A bucket list. A goal, however much I despise that word.
My bucket list consists of places. There's the odd exception, obviously; writing a novel, for example. But by and large, it's the world itself that holds the appeal for me -- I have a nebulous idea that I am going to go to as many of these places as I possibly can, and let them happen to me.

In no particular order:

- Iceland. It might seem like an odd destination at first, but I got this idea into my head maybe two or three years ago, and it will not let me go. Somewhere between Björk and this:

I think I see Thor emerging from that volcano.

I was pretty much sold. Besides, the more I look into it the more appealing it becomes. Add to awe-inspiring volcanoes and eclectic pop music a rollicking drinking culture and a penis museum, and I'm basically planning on making a permanent move as soon as I can manage it.

- Madagascar. Home to some Pretty Cool Stuff, such as funny-looking trees and endless lemurs, and this fierce motherfucker:

This is a fossa.

Oh, and a lot of this Pretty Cool Stuff can't be found anywhere else in the world. Which may or may not be a reason to go there and check it out. I don't know, don't people dig exclusivity?

- The Czech Republic. For all the usual reasons: beautiful architecture, thriving nightlife, beer, modern city meets ancient history, drag queens, the clichés just keep coming.

Seriously though, this is quite beautiful.

- Botswana. Because I want to go on safari, but I don't want to go to a country dubbed the 'rape capital of the world'. Fuck you South Africa, sort your shit out. In the meantime I'll be chillin' in Botswana, where statistically I don't have an extremely high chance of being assaulted, but I can still see the giraffes and the lions and the elephants.

ELEPHANTS

- Thailand. Honestly, Bangkok doesn't blow your mind? I love almost everything I hear about this country. Tell me more of these white sandy beaches, unparalleled culinary experiences, whale sharks, tigers, elephants, mountain ranges, ladyboys and Buddhist temples!

EVEN MORE ELEPHANTS. ELEPHANTS YOU CAN RIDE!

- India. Uhh, there is a rat temple in India. 'Nuff said. 

ADORABLE

- Japan. Land of elaborate yet useless inventions, anime, and according to my mental image, Pokémon.

 

Possibly the greatest country on Earth.

- Cambodia. Aside from the fact that I'm fascinated by its more recent history, in my eternal quest for Really Really Old Buildings, I simply cannot turn down the prospect of Angkor Wat. 

I need photos of me with my thumbs up in front of this.

- Italy. Where do I start? Rome. Venice. Florence. Pompeii. The whole country might as well be a World Heritage Site. The Classics geek in me is salivating at the mere prospect. The dress-up enthusiast in me is giddy with joy at the idea of such a thing as the Venice Carnevale. Italy and I were meant to be.

This actually happens in real life.

- Great Britain. Hello England, Scotland and Wales. Of course the Whovian in me will not let me pass Cardiff; it's pretty obvious that if I'm anywhere near England then London is on the cards, and what glorious cards they are; and I have a long-standing fascination with both Edinburgh and Glasgow which would probably be slightly more justified if I had ever actually been to either of those places.

This came up in a Google image search for "Great Britain". I am delighted.

- Croatia. I've got two main factors with this one: one, it looks stunningly beautiful, and I am definitely one to appreciate beauty (see the above image of Pete Burns' underthings). Two, I've simply never heard a bad thing said about it. And I can imagine why - Roman ruins (including a 1st Century amphitheatre, satisfying my craving for Really Really Old Buildings), sea kayaking, museums, galleries, gardens, restaurants and cocktail bars...

This. Please.

- Jordan. I admit, at first I was purely motivated by a vague wish to contact my darling friend Jordan from Jordan and say "Hey, I'm in you right now." Upon researching this idea further, I discovered that Jordan -- the place -- has some rather impressive things to offer, not least of which is the lost city of Petra. There's also Jerash, an ancient Roman city -- my God, do I adore my Really Really Old Buildings. There's the Dead Sea, Crusader castles, Byzantine-era mosaics in Madaba, and Mt Nebo, which supposedly has something to do with Moses. 

That building looks pretty old. I'm keen.

I'm almost certain there are at least ten more destinations I will later kick myself for missing out on this list. The important thing now is that if you have any money to your name and any charity in your heart, you will contact me in an attempt to bestow funding for the ventures I have mentioned above. Because God knows I'm not going to be able to come up with the money to do all that by myself, and the world owes me something, damn it.

On my subconscious and its habit of trolling me.

So there I am, settling down for sleepytimes. It's really late at night, I can hardly keep my eyes open, my bed is warm and comfy, it's all coming together.

And then BAM. I wake up in a total panic, I have no idea why but at the time it was imperative that I sit up and try to see my attacker.
For some reason, in the pitch darkness of my room, my eyes decide to blatantly lie to me and tell me that the vacuum cleaner is sitting near my heater, watching me menacingly. And then the fucking vacuum cleaner starts moving. Of its own accord. Advancing on me, clearly intending to strangle me with its hose or some ridiculous thing. It was terrifying. It sounds stupid, but you try being stoic when you're half-asleep and convinced you're being attacked by evil cleaning appliances.
So I start telling the vacuum cleaner "no!"
Loudly.
I am sitting in bed in the middle of the night, shouting at the imaginary evil vacuum cleaner, "NO! NO!"

Whatever. I managed to turn my lamp on and see that the vacuum cleaner isn't even in my room, and I go back to sleep, my sanity restored.
Or was it?
The last dream I remember having was - from my point of view - frankly glorious, but it was the kind of glorious that means when I wake up and realize it was only a dream, I react badly.

Like this.

My glorious dream consisted of some sort of movie viewing. The only thing I recall clearly about the movie was the fact that it had paired a couple of male characters - which was cute and all, but more importantly, they were played by this man:

That's Ian Somerhalder...on a fucking motorcycle.

and this man:

Anyone who knows me knows that my ovaries just exploded.

Cillian Murphy and Ian Somerhalder. I don't even know how my dream-self witnessed it without spontaneously combusting due to sheer joy. For reasons I think I just made quite clear, my return to reality was accompanied by this sort of behavior:

Forever.

Yet it is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top.

Last night I dreamed that I was a lone soul in a post-apocalyptic wasteland - clearly I've been playing too much Fallout. The only interesting points of the dream were
a) the wolves were back. Again.
and
b) I stabbed a man in the throat with a large kitchen knife. He was a very nasty man and I was aided by two other young women, who similarly took out his eyes and ears with small blades.
It all seems very symbolic, although I'm not quite sure what it's meant to represent. I often swing back and forth between thinking dreams are many-layered puzzles thrown up by overactive imaginations while our too-restrictive sensible waking minds are too dormant to do anything about it, and thinking that dreams are merely images and ideas we've had over the day being sorted in a very haphazard and meaningless way by our ever-busy brains. I suppose the end product is a bit of both.