What do you dream about?

Last night, I had an incredibly vibrant dream. In this dream, I walked out my front door one morning to discover that the cottage garden at the front of the Fibro had been transformed. The two graceful birches that rustle in the breeze and shield our front verandah from much of the street had been chopped down and lay, felled, across the footpath. The garden beds, full of lavender, camellias, salvia and roses, had been cleared. No flowers grew in my new garden. A new, dazzlingly white picket fence had been installed. The entire area had been carpeted in faux green grass. Two pink, concrete flamingoes had taken up residence in the very centre of the astroturf. A stout little garden gnome stood sentinel by the front gate.

I woke up in a lather. Then woke The Builder up to tell him about it. He managed a laugh.

We didn't need to look far to find a 'meaning' for my dream. I went to Sydney on Friday for Coffee with some of my editorial contacts. After many meetings, many Coffees, and dinner with friends, we all came to one conclusion: it's a time of flux for freelance writers. The old ways are gone. New ways are coming - though nobody is entirely sure yet what they will be. When you write for magazines and other publications, you are a freelancer. When you write for the internet, you are a 'content provider'. The value of the written word is yet to be decided in the shake down. There's a lot to think about, a lot of planning to do. (And, apparently, concrete flamingos to buy.)

Either that, or I simply had one too many red wines at the School Music Trivia Night.

Do you think dreams are the window to our subconscious mind, or the product of indigestion? What do you dream about? 

[image: I'll be buying my flock from www.dazzlelace.com]