I'm going down...

Last night I had a really vivid dream. But while we're on the subject, 'vivid' has always been a weird word to me. I always thought it meant hazy and not real. A bit like vague. But it was only about two years ago I found out it meant the opposite.

So, yeah, I had this really vivid dream where I had been caught shoplifting and was being sent to prison for it for two years. I was at my old house where I grew up in Wimbledon and was thinking which clothes I wanted to wear. I then thought I'd write to Margaret Thatcher, asking her to help me out. She wrote back saying there was nothing she could do. Whatta bitch.

Then I started on my way to the prison. I was really upset Mum wasn't with me. She said she was busy. She said she'd come see me if she had time. In hindsight I'd like to think that this was because she couldn't take the emotional strain but in my dream I just think she had other plans.

In real life I'm seeing a friend today and in my dream I actually called him up and cancelled saying, 'Sorry, I'm going to prison.'

Then I arrived at Bond Street but I knew that this wasn't the right station. Next thing I know I'm at this little newsagent getting changed in their shower. Then I'm off again and trying to find my way. I remember complaining a lot as they had sent me no instructions so I didn't know where to go, what to take or anything.

Eventually I arrived with Margaret Thatcher on the door taking names. I said my name was Michael. She said, 'Turnbull?' then she said she'd read my letter and that there was nothing she could do. She said it all in a nice way. I said thank you and then called her Mrs Thatcher, realised my mistake and said, 'sorry, Lady Thatcher.'

It was a really modern building and there were other families walking around. It felt a bit like Canary wharf tube station.

I remember crying a LOT. It was always mid-sentence. My voice would crack up and...well, it was like my first phone calls at boarding school.

But by the end I had decided that I didn't mind too much. I'm sure there would be a gay network who would take me in and then I could just study for two years and do some really interesting course.

I was just unsure what to do about paying rent, my job and things of that nature. For some reason I seemed to think I would be rich when I came out. Er...

It's now been an hour since I woke up but I still feel like it's my last day of freedom.

I feel...unnerved.