I had one of the most terrifying dreams last night. I was in some sort of classroom. It looked a bit like seminar 2 at school, but it was kind of distorted (as are most things in dreams, Sarah, you dozy eejit). For some reason my teacher told the entire sixth form, who had all by some miracle managed to fit into that tiny room, that I had Asperger's. They then all took it in turns to hug me and offer their condolences. And the scary thing was not that they seemed to think that AS is a fatal condition, but that they were all hugging me. That, I do not like. And then I had a meltdown in my dream.
You know, I think that overshadows the recurring nightmare I used to have when I was little about a gnarled tree on an island in the lake. It had dead dogs hanging from their tails from the branches and the crocodiles would jump out of the water and tear the flesh from their bones. Once they were finished then they would try and eat me. I must have only been about six or seven, perhaps younger.
Does it surprise you that my imaginary friend threw himself off a bridge when I was four?