I am useless at either dreaming or remembering what I’ve dreamt. I think I dream more than have nightmares, but last night I had the worst of my life.

I had just ran away from crocodiles in a field by jumping over barbed wire, where I met a French lady (with children?). We got talking and walked along a path to a stone entrance, where some officially clad man was taking down/putting up/adjusting police crime-scene tape. He conversed briefly in French, and we continued on our way.

Shortly thereafter we came to some kind of courtyard where a crowd stood/sat idly. I turned to look at wild strawberry plants that were growing on one of the surrounding stone walls that surrounded the courtyard, and when I turned back the lady and Freya had disappeared.

The last part of the dream, before I woke up, involved my running around furiously, knowing in my heart that Freya had been abducted.

It hardly needs saying that I found the whole experience terrible; I can not think of a scenario that equals this in sheer heart-breaking frustration. Still, it was only a dream.