coming home to roost

Woke up from a dream this morning about eight; thought, 'I guess that meant my hens are coming home to roost...' Sleepily turned on the radio, to hear a man saying 'Our hens are coming home to roost.' He was talking about the economic situation.

In my dream two hens had come fluttering around my head, in bed. Not threateningly, but I felt the bedroom was not the right place for them. We (I and my then wife) used to have four hens. They were beautiful, proud, though messy, creatures. One was taken by a fox, others would fly into neighbouring gardens, or get completely lost. We were actually happy if they came home to roost at night. The old saying, meaning roughly 'what you sow, you reap', has a bad sense, perhaps because farmers are innately pessimistic. But our hens can come home to roost in both good and bad ways.

My dreams so often incorporate past epochs, past marriages, past jobs, past derelictions of duty. I'm constantly getting lost. I guess everyone does. I'm still worrying about whether I'll pass my 'A' levels --alongside anxiety about ageing, which seems very unfair. In this dream I was in Toronto, leading a writing workshop, but a student had to help me up a high step. Martin Amis,was there too, and he was interested in my memories of John Bayley, my old Oxford tutor, whose biography he was writing. I'd never met Amis, suspected I wouldn't like him or he me, but we got on quite well in my dream.

Memo to myself: must re-read Alice in Wonderland.

Since I'm positive he reads my blog: Hi, Martin! Nice meeting you!