Spiders in the Night…

What is it about spiders? Is it that the ‘elbows’ go above the body? Is it the number of legs? Is it the sheer speed of their movement? Or is it the terrible beady eyes? Whatever it may be, a spider is a scary thing. But whereas there are some truly terrifying spiders in some parts of the world: the Mexican jumping spider which is horrific to behold (are they Mexican? Or have I mixed that up with beans?) and the funnel web spider, so deadly that the joke used to be that it was called a fff, because once it bit you all you could say was ‘I’ve been bitten by a ffff…’ in this country there’s no need to be afraid of spiders. Yet still they remain a potent symbol of threat.

I’ve managed to teach myself to be around arachnids, thanks in part to OH who thinks they’re awesome and sweet; also thanks to the application of yoga philosophy, yet on occasion they will haunt my dreams. This morning I woke at five from a vivid dream involving pale brown spiders that could fly. They weren’t terribly big and didn’t actually bite me but just flew around being generally menacing like Hell’s Angels circling a pub on a Saturday night.

So I awoke feeling strange and wobbly, in that place where I know psychosis is lurking ready to pull the ground from under me. At such times it is important to reconnect with reality; to feel your feet on the ground and the air in your lungs; to tell yourself ‘I am here.’ But at five in the morning it’s hard to tell dreams from reality. Am I a writer living in the Midlands, England who dreamed of spiders from Mars? Or am I a Martian spider dreaming of living in the Midlands?

In other news, my long-awaited book came yesterday and I dived right in. Girl, Woman, Other is so far pretty good and vastly different from what I’ve been reading lately. I’ll post a review when I’m done.

That’s all folks. Stay safe out there – the virus isn’t done with us yet,,..

Kirk out

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