Noel Edmunds, Doctor Who Harmonies and the Mystery of my Cross-Dressing Dream Boy

The stark contrast between the waking wanderings of my over-active imagination and the deepest, most bizarre musings of my dreaming self has me flummoxed. (Flummoxed - good word, right?)

Awake Frankie actively takes time out of her life to imagine things. (Why am I speaking in the third person? Let's just go with it, I think I'm hitting my stride...) Sometimes I'm daydreaming, imagining what it would be like to meet Prince, what my Dad would say if I brought him round for tea even.  Sometimes my imagination is provoked or inspired by something that someone said, leaving my mind to wander off JD-from-Scrubs-style.  Sometimes it's simply positive thinking, going over and over in my mind what I want to happen that day, the best outcome, visualising it in detail, taking my mind out of the hectic and chaotic moment.  Maybe this is normal, maybe this isn't but this is what happens to me.

Meanwhile, dreaming Frankie (who bizarrely is the same person as awake Frankie, it's just that now she's, well, sleeping) for the most part does nothing.  But then every now and again, during a stressful period in my life, when I'm consistently worrying about something, when things around me are happening that I can't control, when my mind is struggling to process events in 'real-time', well, then...the dreams go CRAZY!

In my dreams, I've ridden pillion on a motorcycle, sang karaoke with daleks, won VIP packages in competitions, ice-skated, been Buffy the Vampire Slayer, been Blair Waldorf, moved to Italy, broken hearts, received threats from the Grim Reaper, and, during one horrible nightmare as a child, been chased by Noel Edmunds flanked by an army of  robotic 'Mr Blobbies'.

It all sounds very exciting and adventurous, doesn't it?


You see, apprently the imagination that I try to keep alive daily by writing and daydreaming, just doesn't get enough exercise in waking moments.

Or perhaps, conversely, my daytime imaginings are simply feeding the crazy dreams, adding more fuel to the fire?

When dream Frankie is mean to people, or does things she would never do in real life, it comforts me to know that the whole thing is complete fiction BUT I can't help wondering...why am I dreaming it?  Does awake Frankie want to do these things?  Is this my subconscious teling me something more meaningful than I ate too much the night before?

Well, maybe.  Like, I know for a fact that when I dreamt about getting married to someone in order to please my family, and the groom to be, that in reality I was worried about doing things for other people, rather than myself.  I know that when I dreamt that my date was seriously injured, horribly and graphically, that really, I was just worried about the date going badly.  I know that when I dreamt that my then-boyfriend was a cross-dresser, I- wait, what was that about again???

I think dreams at times can help you to see things that you didn't see before, but to be honest, I don't think all dreams are meaningful. I need to believe this to keep my sanity, to stop me from being convinced that Noel Edmunds really is out to get me, just for starters...

Use a dream book all you want - I challenge you to find the page with singing daleks on it.  If you do, get in touch - that's a paragraph I want to read!

Sorry, we no longer accept cheques

I always feel inspired after hearing the other amazing talent this country has to offer.  Written on the way back from the slam final, prompted by the sign at a petrol station pump reading "Sorry, we no longer accept cheques'.

Welcome to the postmodern era
for someone like me it couldn't be clearer
We've technophobes
and nomophobes
and silver surfers
on Google Chrome
Twitter feeds
breed pedigrees
of violent trolls
and Trending Ts
#supportZayn4eva
#whydidZaynleave
I'm telling you, they're all on 1D!

Now we don't even need money to pay
we wave cards at readers with a 'have a nice day',
then go back to our Candy Crush Saga
or reap motherload crops on pastures calmer
and then there's always another app
for when we've had enough of that
(because everyone soon gets their fill
after 30 long minutes on Farmville).

And I'm guessing this poem won't age so well
'cause I mean 'fax machines' what the hell
did they even do?
Hate to break it to you
but they're about as obselete
as a Walkman cassette
and that's almost as redundant as you can get!
(Save the art form of the slowly dying cheque,
an almost unacceptable payment,
but we're not there yet!)

So I turn to the future now -
what will be next?
When we've used all our resources
and exhausted
our energy choices
what will be left?
I tell you the whole thing leaves me bereft,
lost for words,
which is weird for me,
so I'd best demonstrate with an emoji 😶

And what even comes after the postmodern era?
What's more modern than modern?
No-one thought that we'd need a
word for the noughties
or whatever this decade is called
(I vote we leave the numbers thing and just call it 'Paul')

Yes, this is the postmodern era
Already these words the last in a thin, crumbling tier
Defunct
Done with
Completely over
Before I've even finished this poe-