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The Hand Washing Dream

Considering that we’re all being told to wash our hands [1] (and scan each other with thermal scanners) due to the pig flu, perhaps this dream from a bit over a week ago saw it all coming.

In this dream I was intending on walking from home to Fyshwick, but for some reason walked to Belconnen (Lathlain Street to be precise) and found myself on a street which looked like a derivative of Hardinge Street, Deniliquin.

I was standing out the front of a Home Hardware store and noticed that next door to it was a Coles supermarket, and next to that was an unnamed petrol station. In front of the Home Hardware store was a structure which looked like a British phone box but was in fact a dual-purpose hand-washing booth and LPG cylinder dispensary. I went in there and washed my hands, and then decided that I really did need to make a move and go to Fyshwick, only to suddenly realise that I did not have my key on me and needed to go home first, but did not have enough time to do so.

According to the logic of the dream, I was closer to Fyshwick than home, and going home first would double my travel time, which in the real world makes no sense because my house is more-or-less half way between Belconnen and Fyshwick.

A group of concerned on-lookers offered to carry me to Fyshwick, which prompted me to run back in to the hand-washing booth and wash my hands again.

At this point, thankfully, the dream ended.