Loos Woman (NOT a typo)

I've always had toilet-based dreams.
That's not to say that I don't dream of anything BUT a nice white cistern and porcelain flush handle, I certainly DO (including Johnny Depp at times), but toilets seem to hold some kind of repeat fascination for my sleep-addled state.
Mostly I am in urgent need of a toilet - in my dream I mean.  And there are always corridors to navigate before I find one.  Not endless, but complicated corridors... with doors.  Sometimes revolving ones... and doors that lead to other doors and even more corridors.  Maybe this indicates my predilection for digressing... but, I digress.

Then, when I find the toilet, I am relieved (not literally, not just YET) but then one of two things happen... either:
a) the toilet is full of... well, crap and paper and sometimes overflowing to the floor and I am positively REVOLTED to find that so are all the others... or
b) there are no walls around any of the loos.

So the choice is... well, limited to say the least.  Do I hover indelicately over an already brimming pan and chance nobody thinks it was me who filled it...? or sit in total view of anybody else who might be in the vicinity (they're always public loos, and nobody else seems to care or notice that there should be WALLS - apart from the recent dream which was just bizarre - *)?

Very often, and before I've decided which is the least humiliating, I wake up.  NOT needing a pee, I hasten to add, so it's nothing to do with having a proper full bladder whilst asleep.  It's bound to be something deeper, more meaningful.  Probably psychologically unbalanced.  So, like, don't tell anybody, okay?

* This week I dreamed I was in a friend's house (who I never met in real life before - hi Suz *waves*) who lived near the sea because there was a lovely picture-sized wooden-framed window looking out onto a Cornish (don't ask me why, it just felt Cornish, okay?) cove on the stairway as I navigated my way towards her toilet.

Which was at the top of the stairs and, obviously had NO WALLS around it.  I was actually a bit cross in my dream - an emotion I don't remember ever having when faced with a wall-less loo before, and even more concerned that her brothers (she had 3 - she might not, of course, in real life) who were in the adjoining rooms (again, with NO WALLS) would see me bare my butt and pee in their peripheral vision.

I woke up. But not before I'd gone back downstairs (in my dream) and told Suz that I couldn't possibly pee in her loo as there were no walls.  I don't recall her reaction.

This HAS to mean something!

So this morning, imagine my dismay (now I sound  like something out of Reader's Digest or 'Points of View') when I went for a real, live, awake fully-conscious pee at home - IN MY OWN HOUSE and found there was no door.
NO DOOR - like NO WALLS... (cue Twilight Zone weird music).

... and after I'd calmed down, I explained to the husband that no, I couldn't just "get on with it"  so he could carry on hanging the new door; that I had very vivid recurring dreams involving just this scenario, he stopped laughing long enough to re-hang it so that my morning ablutions could continued, concealed. (although I KNEW he was hovering about outside waiting and it was just as cringey).

I don't know what any of this means.  Perhaps I'm suffering with more than writer's block - creative constipation sounds a lot more serious.

"Ill sh*t by candlelight".

It came back to me like a tired traveller punching the air as she takes the first step back on British tarmac...
Just as I'd settled myself down for a nice morning...um... ablution, my trusty family just t'other side of the the door waiting for their breakfast at the most beautiful Osteria this side of the Tuscan border... I went suddenly blind. But not. The lights had gone out. So, with frillies caught betwixt knee and ankle, I felt about the walls in search of switch and found nothing. Don't panic. Knickers up, chest out, just open the door and fumble about elsewhere - the switch must be on the outside. But can't get outside for lock will not turn and when I take the key out it (obviously - now why didn't I see that one coming? oh yeah - cos it's DARK!) falls to the floor. More fumbling. Much door rattling. Bit panicking. Followed by lot panicking. Followed by finding key, unlocking door, opening door and finding lighted church candle being passed through doorway by beautiful Italian lady who smiles sadly at British Bumbling Buffoon caught with knickers down.Ah well, to be expected I guess - at least I wasn't caught shame-faced having a pee in the EasyJet loo on the way home by a shocked four year old this year.
Oh, the memories.
(Strangely, mostly very toilet-based, I notice)