What Did You Dream Of Last Night?

Last night I had a series of terrifying dreams, culminating in one where I was having to hide out in a room with the body of someone very dear to me. They were wrapped in sheets and laid on the floor, with just a tiny bit of hair showing. In the dream I wasn't particularly moved by this, but when I woke up it took me several seconds of deep breathing to realise that it was all a dream.

In another I was in Paris with someone. We were crossing a series of roads to get to somewhere and I was irritated with the person I was with, who kept hanging back when we needed to get across. I ended up weaving in and out of moving vehicles or cars at lights and junctions to get all the way across. The background was very convincingly Parisian, I have to say!
 
I was on holiday somewhere warm with my wife, a little rocky island that was Isle of Wight meets Amalfi Coast. I think the dream location has turned up once or twice previously. Our lodgings was only accessible by boat, but the boatman lived in another cottage nearby. The beach walk was spectacular, running along inside some exquisitely sculpted caves, with plentiful windows opening onto the seafront.
 
This may have been a night or two ago because I've recently had disturbed sleep.

In the dream a phone rang and I picked up and said Hello.
A voice said 'Xxx has died.'

So I started asking questions - 'Who are you?' 'How do you know this?' 'How did it happen?' 'Are you sure about it?' etc. which of course came out as a stammer.
Very useful indeed. :dunno:

The phone then went dead and I woke up.

The person spoken of is a former relation by marriage who caused huge trouble in my family.
Although no longer on the scene she's still making ripples and I'd be frankly less than heartbroken to hear of her demise.

The name featured on TV recently as a pseudonym used by a nasty criminal. Techy and joked that It's her, that explains everything! so that's perhaps why it cropped up.
 
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I dreamt I was going around a strange museum come art gallery. It was a weird old dream. Later on I was in a home with a wonderful view of the countryside and horizon. There was a female I knew - I think it was her place. I was waiting for an eclipse type event and had a perfect view when it came. I got my camera ready and discovered the film had run out so I couldn't take a photo.

I was very annoyed with the known person who had used up the film and not got a new one - because I hadn't used it at all.

The museum was just my mind inventing something fun. The appearance of a particular person in the museum and the subsequent camera problem,were my brain remembering them (and the camera/film using was the least of the problems they caused in real life).
 
catseye said:
So both @escargot and @Earthly oddity have dreamed of people who caused them problems in the past! Synchronicity at work...
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I noticed that we posted our dreams around the same time today.

To be honest though it isn't that unusual for my brain to bring this particular person back into my dreams. Sadly my relationship with them ended in 1999, but they still trouble me in my sleep. I wish I could bother them in theirs to this day, but they had no problem moving on with their life with no conscience or consequences over what they did.
If I knew I was still turning up uninvited into their dreams and annoying them, it would at least be a form of karma/revenge. Sadly, I am the one haunted by them/the past. I wasted 10 years of my life on them and it derailed my life/plans.
By the time I was ready to move on, I couldn't find a partner to share life with.
Sadly I am haunted by a living ghost who never cared about me and is living their carefree life with no consequences. It is a life sentence. I can't imagine I am any presence in their memories and dreams.
 
One for my little book last night: I was back in that house- the one I may well have mentioned before, and which crops up in my dreams from time to time. Again, it had secret passages in the walls, like usual. This time however, they were hidden behind cupboards and wardrobes and there were many that I did not know about.

However, what did know about them was a pack of very intelligent and hungry wolves, who had teamed up with a pride of lions to gain entry and presumably eat me and my children. My kids were very young, and keeping them safe from lions and wolves bursting out of the furniture was a terrifying job. But in the end, the sun came up and all the animals sloped off back to wherever they live during the day.

Could do with not having that particular dream again for a while!
 
All I can remember is that I was thinking of planning a birthday party for myself, either in a year or several years. I don't know why I would. I don't celebrate birthdays and would never have a party.

The odd little tidbit was that myself or someone mentioned that the date was a vote date. We just finished our provincial voting and do expect a federal soon.
 
I've been reading back over dreams that I've had, both listed here and where I've written them down elsewhere. Somehow some of the dreams I can still recall on reading my notes back, some images or emotions or both. Other dreams I am reading what I've written and I'm having to go and check it was me that posted (if on here) or I'm staring at my notes thinking 'I cannot remember one iota of any of that.' Time doesn't seem to make any difference, I can recall images from dreams from years ago and yet other more recent dreams have vanished completely. Even writing them down didn't help to fix them.

I wonder why?
 
catseye said:
I've been reading back over dreams that I've had, both listed here and where I've written them down elsewhere. Somehow some of the dreams I can still recall on reading my notes back, some images or emotions or both. Other dreams I am reading what I've written and I'm having to go and check it was me that posted (if on here) or I'm staring at my notes thinking 'I cannot remember one iota of any of that.' Time doesn't seem to make any difference, I can recall images from dreams from years ago and yet other more recent dreams have vanished completely. Even writing them down didn't help to fix them.

I wonder why?
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I think that's why I try to write some of my dreams here, it's interesting to go back and read them.
 
Last night I dreamt that each day I was receiving 6 things that were to happen like ordering a meal and I forget the others.
They were in a block digitally, and I was thinking as I woke up that this had happened before, and then I thought "have I paid for all the things?"
Then I really woke up and it was all just a dream,
 
SimonBurchell said:
I think that's why I try to write some of my dreams here, it's interesting to go back and read them.
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Ditto. I put them here because then they are date stamped, in the event that one of them turns out to be precognitive, and I'm interested in whether phases of the moon have a bearing on my remembering my dreams or the content therein. So having them here, whilst rather self indulgent (although I truly am interested in reading others' dreams) gives me a dated recollection.
 
brownmane said:
I remember very little from last night, and not much made sense.

I was undressing and standing in front of a mirror. I noticed that my underarms were very hairy and that I had chest hair.:dunno:
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I once dreamed of looking in a mirror and noticing that one of my arms was now thin and wooden, like a snowman's stick-arm.
This pleased me after all that hard gym-work. :nods:

I decided to put off inspecting the other arm, save that pleasure for later. :chuckle:
 
I was a child in a family of 4 or 5. The parents had several wildcats as pets. My understanding was that the woman had had the kids and cats and then married the man. He, obviously was ok with all of this responsibility.

The two cats that I remember were a leopard and a cougar. The leopard was in a barren room with a concrete floor, like a large garage. The cougar was in a small room. The kids helped care for the pets. They were quite tame.

I visited the leopard and brought it water in a dog dish. I felt bad that it had no room to run as well as in an environment that was not good for its wellbeing. I threw a ball to the other side of the room to play fetch. It was the only form of exercise that it could do.

The cougar was very friendly and jumped up on me to get pets. I gave it water as well.

At first, the animals got large pieces of raw meat to eat. Later there was an unheard argument amongst the parents and I figured that the man was worried about the cost of keeping these pets and that he was the only income earner.

Then the woman was sick and not able to care for the cats. It fell to the kids and the food that I gave them was kibble.

I knew this was not fair or kind to the animals. The kids tried to convince the parents to surrender their cats to places that could give them the proper care, especially since the woman was no longer able to do anything.

Eventually the parents agreed. I think the cougar went to somewhere (a zoo?) in Australia.

Oh, yes, there was a bizarre third cat that we called a kitten. It was the size of a large footstool. Again obviously not kept properly with too much food and little exercise. I think we kept it because it was supposed to be just a cat. I hoped that it would lose its fat and be healthy since now the kids would have time to care for it and to play with it.
 
Earlier yesterday, I'd briefly read an article about some controversy or other concerning the Lurpak company. Later, I dreamt that someone said to me: "Now it's time to butter your eyes", and approached me armed with a regular kitchen knife. Weirdly, I didn't feel afraid...which is a first for me, admittedly.
 
I was living in a mobile home-type of house, long and thin and one room wide. At one end was a bedroom, there were living rooms in the middle and another unused room at the other end. I was some kind of household help for a man in his mid thirties. I was in the living room and a very young boy came in, around ten years old or younger. He was silent and cowed and sort of crying, crouching in the room which was messy with lots of boxes dotted around. I knew things weren't right somehow and I asked the boy if he wanted to get away or escape. He just looked at me hopelessly and shook his head but I knew we had to leave and that I was also in danger. The man was asleep in the bedroom and there were other people around the place that I knew were going to be asked to move in too and take the spare room at the other end.

So I decided we had to leave. We were out somewhere at a party - I don't know what capacity I was there in, but I knew we were all going to be trapped if we went back to the 'house', so I collected all the people I perceived to be in danger, who all seemed to be girls I used to be at school with, all aged about twenty, and told them we had to go. They got into the car, one got into the footwell at the back and lay down across the floor so there was room for more. The boot was empty and I reasoned that I could tell 'The Man' that I had left it empty for him to get into if he turned up and caught us trying to run. Then I drove to a petrol station, the girls got out to buy Cadbury's Creme Eggs and other things (I only remember the creme eggs though) and while I was standing beside the car another car drew up. Two girls got out, holding their faces, they'd been beaten. One of them said 'it all happened after you left,' in an accusatory way and I knew then that we couldn't pretend to have made a mistake and go back, we HAD to run or we were dead. The girls all came out of the shop and I said 'well, at least we know we haven't got a puncture,' (for some random reason, I think to give a reason to the recently arrived girls for having stopped at a garage).

It was all quite scary and realistic, I could even pinpoint where the garage was meant to be (down by the Exe Bridge in Exeter, where there isn't a garage in real life).
 
I dreamed that I was standing by a window and I saw a flash of movement and a cat had jumped onto the windowsill outside and was miaowing to be let in. I looked out and this was a small domestic cat but it was marked exactly like a tiger - the same fawn background coat and random dark striping.

I reached behind me where I'd left my phone to take some pictures to post on here, but the cat jumped down and left.

Even in my DREAMS I'm thinking of you lot...
 
I had a weird dream last night.

In real life I had a Curryfest a week ago, and whilst our guests enjoyed it I was a little self critical as I didn’t think some of the dishes were as good as I had cooked before. As a result everyone is coming back next month for an Italian meal, but for the life of me I cannot find an old tried and trusted recipe for Parmiagana Melanzane.

This must have been troubling me in my sleep as I had a dream about cooking in which Gordon Ramsay played a starring role. The dream seemed to go on for ever but ended when I offered to help, took off my jacket and as I did I knocked some bowls and plates off the side and they smashed on the floor.

GR started to have a go shouting that these bowls don’t have wedgewood or Doulton on them as they were made for him and they were F*****g expensive.

Given I very rarely remember my dreams I am astounded that I still remember so much detail of this dream after a whole day has passed.

I wonder what a dream interpreter would make of it?
 
Just a few seconds of a bizarre and frightening dream which actually woke me up:

A companion and l were near a Hammer Horror-type house in an Evil Dead-type forest, at night. A scary old black woman lived in the house, and we had pissed her off somehow.

We elected to run away; for some reason l dropped to all fours in order to run faster. l can recall pelting through the woods and soil beneath my hands.

We darted into a hidey-hole behind some hanging vines. The old lady had followed us. She stood outside our flimsy refuge, unaware that we were hiding within, and shouted something like, “If you white boys don’t stop bothering me I’ll let the vampire loose!”

It sounds trite, but the atmosphere of the dream was terrifying.

maximus otter
 
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I dreamed that I was watching something that was meant to be an AI-type recreation of a person as they had been when they were young. It was a man sitting in an interview-type chair alone on the screen and answering questions. He was roughly about 30, blond hair, smiled a lot and was very good looking. Someone told me it was David Attenborough and I was squinting and trying to work out whether it looked like the David Attenborough I remembered. Admittedly I don't remember him at 30, but the figure was so 'airbrushed' and smooth that it reminded me more of a young David Bowie, although I did get flashes where I thought it could be David Attenborough. In the end the man stood up and walked off screen, whereupon a discussion ensued among the watchers to how Attenborough-like the figure had been. I was holding to the idea that it was designed to be David Bowie and someone had just shoved a bit of Attenborough in it.
 
Eek. First time relating a dream on here:

A couple were talking about buying a car. The woman said she wanted one like they used to have on Department S. I suggested that had been an Aston Martin. Someone else suggested that they should wait and have a look what type of car it was.

Then I was sitting next to Joel Fabiani and I was asking him about the car. He asked me what programme I was talking about and I was horrified to discover that I couldn't remember the name of the programme or the name of any of the characters.

I woke up really concerned that I hadn't been able to remember, especially when talking to Joel Fabiani. He played Stuart Sullivan in Department S (1970s secret agent type programme) and I had a terrible crush on him all those years ago! (1969-70).

(There was a dream the other night that was much more interesting but I have forgotten most of it now)
 
Another curious chain-of-logic dream.

I was having lunch with a couple of co-workers in a half built house. On the patio outside there was a small pile of crumpled old newspapers. Without any warning the newspapers caught fire, and we went outside and stamped out the flames.

I was curious as to why the papers might have started burning. I poked through the ashes and found a couple of old glass marbles. I looked up at the sun and realized that the papers, and the marbles, were exposed in full sunlight.

AHA! Solution - the marbles had acted as magnifying lenses and focussed the sun's rays, triggering the fire.

I stood there, looking at the sun, rolling the marbles in the palm of my hand, thinking "That's something to look out for in future."

- The strange thing is that I've never had this happen in waking life, so I don't know why m subconscious is throwing it at me now.
 
I was a lot younger & walking along by the Thames with David Jason whilst disagreeing about Brexit which he was strongly in favour of. He spotted a group of men on the opposite side of the river wearing union jack clothes & carrying flags. He shouted across to them & exchanged some banter.

It then cut to me & 2 others waiting for a lift from someone’s dad. Eventually he turned up in something like a Morris Marina & who was in the front passenger seat - David Jason! He started baiting us & the disagreeing recommenced.
 
On Facebook, I discovered a group dedicated to keeping in touch and trading memories of our old school. So having not especially thought very much of the old day borstal for a long time (there were more traumatic memories of the PTSD-inducing sort that happened later, and those claimed priority for monopolising my dreams), of course I got into it and memories stirred. Me being me, I spent several hours binge-reading the lot and of course memories stirred - the good, the bad, and the "just-getting-on-with-it" sort.

Inevitably, I've started dreaming of the bloody place.

Last night, one of those long, structured, integrated dreams that told a story.

I was on the morning journey to school, only it was in hideously bad weather, it was still dark, and the bus service was disrupted. I had a sense of frustration at needing to get there, and because of the bus service being down, for some reason I'd elected to walk the couple of miles out of Stockport town centre because it might even be quicker. So I was slogging up the hill from Mersey Square, up Wellington Road to the Town Hall at the top. And of course two or three 192 buses passed and I was nowhere near a bus stop. (EDIT - a detail I remember is that one bus was right for the period - 1970s - and was in the then current Greater Manchester (south) paint scheme of dingy orange, drab beige, and dogturd brown. The next one along was in Stagecoach's visually dyslexic colour scheme of mainly-blue with white and orange. The last one was in the current Manchester scheme of bright banana yellow. It was like looking at a parade of heritage buses!)

At this point, I realised I was no longer wearing my raincoat, which for some reason was in a bright vivid orange colour. I remembered this had my wallet, ID papers, cash and credit cards in the pocket - disaster. Time was spent looking for it and this took me to a pub, called The Hallé, after the orchestra. (no such pub, in real life) Inside, it was also a general shop and newsagent: the girl behind the counter barely spoke English so it was a struggle getting her to understand what I wanted. (for some reason, a bus ticket to Great Moor - the district my school is in). Discovered in the end she understood a bit of Russian, as I do, so we talked in a painful pidgin. This reminded me I was on the way to school.

This baffled me, as in the dream I knew I was in my early twenties. So why was I going back there?

Well, I got there for morning assembly. This, for sixth-formers, was in The Octagon, the School's sixth-form centre. I went in, hoping I'd be inconspicuous, and joined one of several groups of pupils standing around the walls in the assembly room. At this point, a teacher I recognised (I knew none of the pupils - all anonymous) stomped over, looked at me, and said "What are YOU doing here? YOU left YEARS ago!" Very short-tempered and angry.

A surge of pupil-to-Master subordination and deference emerged, but I felt confident enough to begin saying "Well, sir, I think I've got every right to be here...." I remember I had a long explanation prepared that made sense, about having been sent back here to study for and resit an exam, but the teacher cut me short, impatiently. (As they do: they demand an explanation and then make it clear they don't want to hear it.)

Mr Louis Cousin, Head of Modern Languages, a man who I remember as being basically alright, if a bit sly and sarcastic, then told me I was standing in the wrong place, you're meant to be standing over HERE, can't you get ANYTHING right?, led me to another group standing against an opposite wall. And he stood in front of me, with his back turned. Found myself reflecting he was bigger than I remembered and still affected slightly loud-patterned sports jackets.

And that was it... woke up, reflected that Louis C had died in 2019, as I'd read on the FB page, and wondered if the dream had been my way of processing that. But dreams as long, as vivid, and as internally consistent, as this are worth noting down.
 
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A stab at an interpretation: no accident a dream like this came after discovering, and immersing myself in, memories of the School I was at between 1973 and 1980. ages eleven to almost eighteen, my formative years.

So I'm on my way there on a very dark, very windy, very rainy morning. struggling to get there, in fact, and reduced to walking - up a hill in town which isn't especially steep, but the slope goes on for ever, perhaps for two thirds of a mile. Remembering that I passed 11+ and got a bye to what was acclaimed as the best school in town, academically speaking. Because of a few very British quirks (the Headmaster and senior staff had come out of the public school system, and because it was a State Grammar that in the past, and to a degree in the present, attracted private investment and charitable donations from big-name benefactors) got a mention in the Public Schools Yearbook alongside the Etons and the Harrows and Winchesters. (that's in much the same way Stockport County and Macclesfield Town are listed as Football League clubs alongside Liverpool and Manchester United, mind you. same listing, different status.) It had such an academic reputation - along with a degree of local social cachet - that parents who could afford public school fees sought to get their kids through 11+ so that they'd then get the right sort of Education for free.

I was the "scholarship kid" from a dirt-poor family. The poor kid among affluent peers with the shabbier uniform and less resources to back me. So slogging up that hill against the elements in the dark reflected this - the continual grind of fitting in, and having to run even to get to the starting line of the race. Visual metaphor.

Losing a vividly orange coat - having the individuality sapped out of me, everything that made me into me. With my cash, cards and ID in the pockets - losing my support systems and even the documents that proved who I am. The struggle to communicate and make myself understood, with the shop assistant who spoke minimal English. Then being thrown in among sixth-formers who were also just anonymous clones, more mobile parts of the background scenery with no individuality. That's what the school turned out, after six years. And of course the idea of having to go back there, when I thought it was all over, to sign on again and resit an exam, as if there were still, literally, lessons to be learnt. Even at this age.

Having read about the death of a teacher who in his way had been quite okay, and then meeting him in the dream. Where his dream-avatar recognised me and behaved in a way typical of the Masters at Stockport School - no warmth, no sympathy, just a sort of casual withering scorn.

The absurd thought is that is maybe another time I've dreamt of interacting with a former schoolteacher who I know or reasonably suspect to have died. This is speculation and I know I can't prove it. But what if that was a postmortem encounter with a former teacher? Remembering the (self-identified) psychic who passed on that un-nerving message from - allegedly - somebody who might have been my old Spanish teacher (citing as proof something unique to my previous interaction with that person) who said that part of his post-mortem experience was to go to people he'd wronged or not treated fairly with while in life, and to make reparations to them. (I've written this up for these forums too, it's on one of the "Psychics" threads). Remembering my interacting in a dream with the French mistress I'd had a bit of a thing for, and how it had been my turn, then, to make an appalling bollocks of it. (That's on this thread somewhere, I hope Rita can forgive me for that, if it was her I met in what was more than a dream).
EDIT;
Encounter with a psychic

Dreaming of Rita

Just maybe this was Louis C's imperative after passing over - to touch base with his former students too. I walked into his purgatory, and going by what happened, he may have a way to go before realising he needs to be more conciliatory? After all, another recurring theme in my dreams is that surmounting some sort of physical challenge, like climbing a hill or ascending stairs or getting over a fence, especially if it appears to consume more energy and effort than seems reasonable, seems to represent a "transition between levels" - as if I'm moving to a different level of awareness and perhaps one that's outside my own mind. (The dream where I slogged up the big steepish hill-street in central Winchester to the imposing civic buildings at the top, and was perhaps rewarded for this with complete mental clarity and a full lucid dream - then used it a step to resolving a long-standing emotional issue). Usually then, meeting a Person who conveys something I need to know, or getting a life experience to take back with me, what sometimes gets called a Vision Quest. Although Wellington Road South, Stockport, as a portal to the Astral Plane...
 
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Last night I had three dreams that stayed in my memory for some reason (who knows why some stuff sticks and other stuff is gone as soon as you open your eyes?)

I was travelling, possibly on horseback, in a line with several other people. I was at the back. I turned around and saw something flying along across our trail, at about head height. It looked like it was made entirely of feathers, trailing, and I said 'oh look, there's a peacock, flying! You don't often see that!' Once I said it I could see that the bird was made up entirely of a peacock's tail. Nobody else turned around to see...

I was with a group of people outside in a garden. We were going to sleep outside I think. There came the most almighty 'thud' like a distant explosion and we all looked at one another but carried on with what we were doing. A few moments later there was another huge 'thud' and we all turned tail and ran to the big house on the horizon, deciding that we'd all sleep indoors tonight.

This last dream might have been the latter part of the previous one, I'm not sure. But I was sleeping in a sleeping bag in either the mouth of a tunnel or under a bridge with a group of people. Some cars came along and were driving about outside on the cinder track that led to the tunnel/cave/bridge. They were spinning and sliding and showing off in the manner approved by young people everywhere. Some of our group went to look and were standing just outside the tunnel watching the cars as they doughnutted their way around.

I live in a very quiet village where performing car hi jinks just isn't a thing (road is too narrow for a start), but I might have heard a noisy car going through whilst asleep, or a tractor. I don't know how to account for the 'thud' noises though - most sounds loud enough to enter my dreams will wake me up, and this sounded very loud. Could have been the dog scratching on the landing, I suppose.
 
Weirdness last night. In one dream I was the TV character Doctor Frasier Crane (an intellectually inclined psychiatrist who lacks a practical streak). Somehow I managed to fuse or jam or foul up the locks on my father's car. As I recall this was completely in context to the TV show - the sort of scenario they'd have made an episode out of. Frasier blunders; it inconveniences his practical blue-collar father; Marty gets acerbic; Frasier tries to put things right and blunders again in an even bigger way... as Frasier Crane I then tried to fix the locking system. Manifested a compete unfamiliarity with tools - there was a sort of double-headed set of pliers I barely knew how to use. Remembering ineffectually poking and probing at the lock mechanism and reminding myself if I twisted it too far I'd break it and Marty would go ballistic.
The inevitable happened and I was able to separate the lock into two or three sub-assemblies. It was just that while I could put things back into approximately the correct places and it approximated the shape of the original lock - there were bits left over, lots of small fine screws for instance.... as Frasier Crane, I just knew Marty would be in a real rage. (And damn - a complete absence of Roz Doyle, or Kate Costas, or Shannon Tweed, or Lorna the screechy estate agent or even Nanny G the childrens' entertainer.... but that's me. I dream of being Frasier Crane and none of the women he manged to pull turned up.)

A fragment of another dream: in an office and tasked with preparing a bill - the perspective seemed to shift from our having to pay it to others, or if it was a demand for others to pay it to us. Either way, it didn't seem to really matter. there was a lot of laughter and good humour in the air. The sum was astronomical - lots of noughts, a total of billions - and everyone was in agreement it had to be exact to the last cent (it was in US dollars). The last few digits, and I had to calculate them, were $125.23 cents. That final 23 cents was held to be vitally important.
 
Last night's dream was of finding two boxes of matches. It was all about them, very detailed.

I was in a large unlit space with tall windows, like a disused factory.

The matches were the Swan make with the flat yellow boxes, both partly open. I noted the bright colours and distinctive design with the words and picture of the swan.

One box was on a work bench with most of the matches present and the other was on the floor, damp, with only a few intact matches left and a couple of burned ones.

While I was conscious that the boxes might have been owned by a criminal and be evidence I still wanted to handle and inspect them.
I picked them up and held them separately. Had to stoop for the one on the floor.

My last impression is of feeling the cold damp cardboard in my hand and looking closely at the soggy and spent matches.
That was it.

Techy and I don't smoke or generally use matches. We have butane and USB lighters.

Dunno.
:dunno:

Edit - was intrigued enough to look up what matches mean in dreams. Spot on, spookily so. :thought:
 
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Last night I dreamed of travelling on a train along the Welsh coast. Leaning out of a door on the moving carriage, which you can't do, I saw three workmen sitting on the running board, which trains don't have.

The men wore old fashioned blue railway dungarees, caps and jackets. At least one had a Victorian-style full beard.

While I knew they were hitching a lift to their next job along the line and were used to travelling this way it still didn't look safe.

Later at the terminus I collected a load of lost property incuding items of value and marveled at how careless people can be.

On way back by train I noticed that as the line ran through the town I had a good view of the houses and gardens. This comes from seeing trains run through my home town when I was out yesterday.

Trains. :nods:
 
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