Prophetic? No? Yes?

Things about today that are not at all like last night's dream:

My teeth are not in fact falling out in flaky, rotting chunks*.

I am not at an airport wondering how a large, inflatable (make that inflated) giraffe made it into my luggage, or for that matter why I suddenly have a whole extra suitcase. I probably should have been wondering where I was going. But I wasn't.

I do not have an overweight, mentally handicapped 13-year-old** attached like a limpet to my lefthand side, severely impeding my typing efforts and leading to unusually intense press day stress.

Things that are exactly like in my dream:

I looked up at exactly 4.30 and realised with a panic that while everything seemed to be going very smoothly all day, the past two hours had mysteriously vanished, important things had not been done and deadlines were not so much looming as ambushing me with evil laughter.

Admittedly, there wasn't the dead weight of the attention-seeking kid to exacerbate matters. But otherwise, exactly the same.

I guess that should have been predictable for the first press day of the year.

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* I've heard that dreaming of your teeth falling out reveals castration anxiety. Being as I'm a girl, I imagine it's rather more revealing of my fear of losing my teeth.

** Not a random dream kid, someone I used to work with, back in the days when I worked with handicapped kids. This particular little blighter had severe speech difficulties and was almost entirely unable to form coherent words. He could swear like a trooper though. I was very fond of him.