Cellar Dreamin'

[Sundae]

Okay, this dream does not conform to the OT, not featuring another Cellar member.
But this is the longest dream thread so I'm putting it here anyway. Eat it up.

I was dozing this morning, so my dreams were vivid.
I dreamed I was back at school and one of the boys had been pushed too far.
He's been dressed up in a lacy vest and nappy and told to serve dinner to Mrs Browning's French class, as punishment for some other misdemeanour. He ran into our classroom after causing havoc of one kind or another and knowing he was going to be arrested anyway he assaulted some of the girls (slapping, punching, pulling chunks of hair out) then pulled down his nappy and started his own "dirty protest" on the desks.

Grim.

At some point later I was in New York. I was there with a mixed group of girls, which later resolved in Miss Frank - a girl group currently in the X Factor over here. We were looking for a specific shop, and at every corner we passed, the shops had names that connected them with Torchwood. I thought this had to be an omen, it just seemed so unlikely. I always feel let down when I wake up, and the things that seemed slightly off kilter in dreams really were off kilter. But of course - when do I ever really question reality? If I think I'm dreaming I'm pretty much guaranteed to be dreaming!

And finally, I was getting ready for a bath, and Mum and her friend Maureen were talking in my bedroom. Mum had seen a new episode of Dr Who and was telling me it was racist and anti-sport. I knew which one she meant - it was set in our local park, where the Asian bots from our estate play cricket, sometimes even when it's raining. I was trying to explain to her that it was dealing with the issue of racism, not promoting it. Just because a TV show features it, doesn't mean it's promoting it. She didn't understand. I suspected she was secretly racist.

Oh, and finally! This is the dream I actually found this thread for!
I was in America's Next Top Model. I realised I'd been too hard on myself all these years, and in fact I did have a good figure. But just as it was time for our photo shoot I realised I had a spot on my forehead. A big, angry, throbbing one. Pulse, pulse, pulse. So then and there (we were in the garden of the Gipsy Moth pub in Greenwich) I squeezed it. It sprayed everywhere! But when I looked in the mirror, it had sort of re-inflated. It was semi-opaque and the size of a pea. Squeezed it again, same result. Huge spurt and then it came back, bigger. So I pierced it, only the deflated spot was now a big flap of skin, falling over my eye. At which point I gently peeling the excess skin off and started applying concealer to the raw flesh underneath, hoping it wouldn't show.

Why was this significant? Because this morning I have woken up to find a have a great big spot brewing in exactly the same place! It has no head yet, but I might leave it alone even when it does... Or take a picture