Last night I had another strange dream… Lisa thinks it could be "moving stress" as I'm getting ready to head out to Korea again. I remember more of this one although it seems that it could be three different dreams rolled into one.

It starts with me doing Korean aerobics in a new gym with a new instructor who is wearing a white shirt and sliver hot pants. I understand Korean and I’m getting along very well. Of course Ste is getting the usual attention from the old ladies in the gym. Expressions of amazement that Steven is my boyfriend and blushing cheeks with batting eye lashes aimed at Ste. The instructor has a particular soft spot for Ste (which was actual fact in my real life when I lived in Yeosu).

I’m sat on the yoga mats and for some reason Ste starts to join in with the dancing ladies, there is another man there but I can’t see his face. Then all of a sudden Ste’s pants fall down and he flashes the ajumas who are dancing. Ste is immediately embarrassed and runs to the men’s changing room but as he runs passes me the instructor can’t resist but giving Ste a little feel in his man parts. Mortified Ste disappears…poof… I’m left there in a frenzy explaining in my limited Korean that you can’t do that to peoples boyfriends. The conversation goes something like this.

“My boyfriend…your boyfriend no, touch no, I like many no, bad many bad, foreigners don’t like!!!”

I leave the gym never to return.

Now I’m at the bus station, which looks like the bus station in my home town. Green metal frames and glass roofs. I’m waiting for a tour bus. There are lots of new build houses in the distance, it quickly turns from a normal over cast day to quite moody dark clouds. In the distance I see an explosion. The white domed house explodes and out of the top a black wardrobe and a white grand piano are catapulted out and smash into the Italian like villa in front. I can see some of the casualties trickling down the hill.

Now I’m behind a bus in the middle of a place that looks like what I imagine South America to look like. We are at the top of a hill and a Latino man in a pale blue shirt stands in front of a coach. We pay him to get on, but as I walk down by the side of the coach, the ground is turning into mud and I know that we won’t be able to get down the hill. The man took our money anyway started up the coach and drives for a minute and stops. I felt scammed.

“Sorry too muddy can’t go!”

The mud builds up and up. I look up the leafy mountain.

That’s my dream.