… not for those who are squeamish about snakes!

I have a corn snake – that’s her/him (I don’t know which) above, called Sam. S/he is in the dream but is very real.

So, in the dream, I meet Lewis Hamilton, who also owns a corn snake, which, for some unknown reason, I borrow. Maybe I was in a devil my care mood, I don’t know, but I also ordered one to be delivered with my weekly shop. A bigger, more aggressive one. A Python.

It cost me £175.  That seemed to be my biggest concern.

So now I had three snakes.

I was somewhere but couldn’t say where – there were lots of people around, somehow connected with F1 but not in the pits – which would have been apt, since the snakes were roaming around quite happily – but which is strange because a) Sam is kept in a tank (that’s her/his odd day out, in the paddling pool) for fear of her/him burrowing into a sofa and having to be cut free – as happened to the friends we re-homed her/him for – and b) no-one seemed to mind.

I did try putting them  all in the tank, but they were escape artists.

Then another, smaller but pretty, snake appeared. Lewis assured me it wasn’t poisonous (because tiny and pretty = deadly).

Image: Pixabay

Lewis was wrong. There was much hissing and slithering as the big snakes all tried to get away from the tiddler.

And then I woke up.

Freud had a theory about the interpretation of dreams. I wonder what he’d make of this one?

I own a snake. I’d been reading about  Formula One beginning on Sunday week.

I think that’s about it.