In the kitchen, I made my hot ginger, honey and lemon drink and took my medication, and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone. I was back on the taxis again last night. I was driving a hackney carriage and was taking some passengers towards the hospital. We were fairly busy at that point, but a couple of jobs had become confused, and the dispatcher was trying to sort them all out. In the meantime, when I made it to the hospital to drop off these two people, two other people came running out from under the porchway and asked me if I was free. I told them that I was, because these other jobs would sort themselves out. These people climbed in and asked to go to the “Lion and Swan”. Suddenly, I had a mental blank and couldn’t think of where the “Lion and Swan” was. Then I realised that it was along West Street somewhere so I headed off down that way and came to one of these complicated road junctions where I had to turn left and then right. Once I’d sorted myself out there, I turned right whereas I should have turned left. The guy suddenly thought “no, it’s the wrong name of the pub”. It turned out that when he told me the name, we were going in the right direction. When we arrived at where he wanted to go, he and his partner stepped out. I went inside with them and was making some cheese and tomato sandwiches for them.<\/p>\n
This is becoming ridiculous, isn’t it? Why am I dreaming all the time about driving taxis? We have had some recurring dreams in the past, plenty of them, but none have recurred as regularly as this. As to having a mental block, that’s the kind of thing that happens all the time. There’s nothing new here. However, it’s very unlikely that I would be making sandwiches for my passengers.<\/p>\n
The nurse turned up, his usual cheerful self. I reminded him that I’m having a lie-in and not to forget the coffee. I would write out his reply, but these are, after all, family pages.<\/p>\n
