Chairs and Groundhog Dreams

You may recall that when we went on holiday to Yorkshire, Mr Litlove attended a furniture making workshop with the intention of making a chair. Well, that chair is now finished and here it is in all its glory.

Mr Litlove's familiar gazes adoringly at what his Alpha Male can produce.

Mr Litlove’s familiar gazes adoringly at what his Alpha Male can produce.


I’ve been thinking of it for a long while as a thing of beauty, so I was surprised when I sat on it to find how comfortable it is. The back is particularly supportive in a way that must surely be good for the digestion. But it’s pretty too, with lots of little details.

It's the little things that count.

It’s the little things that count.


Thank you all so much for the wonderful comments on my last post – every bit as supportive and beautiful as the chair above. I really don’t know what I would do without this blogging community. I feel very badly, though, that I haven’t been around to visit you all as much as I’d like, what with one thing and another. My tooth and face are feeling better than they did last weekend. It turns out I have bruised a nerve and we are waiting to see if it will revive; if it does then all is well, so cross your fingers for me. It still feels odd and uncomfortable, but not as awful as it did. However, I have now come down with a cold, just to maintain my level of brain fogginess, and I have a mere five days to produce the next 3,500 word essay for my course with scarcely an idea to my name. Let us not give in to despair and call it instead an ‘interesting’ situation. Nevertheless, my intention is, over the course of the week, to get around all my blogging friends for a visit, and who knows but I might read something on one of your blogs that will inspire me.

I had the strangest experience a couple of days ago, that I’m sure was due in part to the new and revolting mouth guard that I have been condemned to wear by the dentist. I agreed to it out of the foolish belief it would be something like my son’s nighttime retainer, which was a clear, fine plastic thing that was almost impossible to see when he was wearing it. But oh no, my mouth guard is the kind I could play rugby in, a hulking great brute I can’t quite close my lips around. When it’s in I look like a member of The Simpsons, such is my overbite. It’s quite hard to swallow and since I’ve had a cold, not that much fun to breathe. I keep it by the bed but only put it in after lights out, in order not to scare Mr Litlove. Talk about a passion killer! I might as well pop my glass eye out and stick it in a jug of water.

Inevitably I haven’t been sleeping well while I get used to it, which is probably why, when I took my book back to bed after breakfast a few days ago (warmest place to be), I fell into a deep sleep. I am a lucid dreamer, and so once I realised I was in a dream when I really should be awake and doing other things, I told myself it was time to snap out of it. So I got out of bed, went downstairs and opened the fridge door.  And I thought, hang on a minute, this isn’t my fridge. There were two of them, in fact, and they were black. Dammit, I thought, I’m still in this dream. So I had another go. I got out of bed and was halfway down the corridor when I bumped into my son, coming towards me in a white kaftan. ‘What are you doing here?’ I asked. ‘You’re supposed to be in London.’ I wasn’t surprised when he gave me a nonsensical answer. After all we don’t have anything like a corridor in our house, and as for that kaftan…! I had a couple more tries at it, two attempts at getting out of bed and going to the bathroom to run a bath. This is my normal  morning routine, and the bathroom was almost like our real bathroom, but I couldn’t feel the water on my skin,  always a giveaway. By now I was quite frustrated. What was I going to do? I was stuck in the dream world and who would know how to find me here?

Just as I was beginning to feel properly anxious, I felt my eyelids begin to crack open with what seemed like the grinding noise of a portcullis being wheeled up. Oh they were so heavy and wanted nothing more than to close again. But I forced them open, blinking in the daylight, and recognised my bed and my bedroom and that they were nothing like the ones in the dream. I was so sleepy it was all I could do to stay awake, but no way was I risking going back into that dream. What a postmodern nightmare! But maybe it was the kind of dream to make me cling hard to my waking life, sore tooth, mouth guard, head cold, essay deadline and all….


36 thoughts on “Chairs and Groundhog Dreams

  1. Welcome back, Litlove. I sympathise with the mouth guard … I wore one at one stage to prevent me grinding my teeth at night and thus causing myself migraines. It feels huge and horrible, doesn’t it? Wishing that you get and feel better all round.

    • Oh it does indeed! I’m getting used to it now, but it does feel enormous. I do hope your migraines are a thing of the past now. Charlotte. They are particularly horrible too!

  2. That is a brilliant chair. I like that colour of wood too – warm without being too heavy.

    I am not often a lucid dreamer, although sometimes my dream hits me over the head and goes “REALLY – TRUST ME – I AM A DREAM!” when I keep trying to do something over and over and finally work out why I can’t (as you say, realising you are not able to feel is something of a giveaway.)

    Bruising a nerve sounds very nasty 😦 Such an awful combination of something very painful and heavy with something so delicate. Hope it continues to improve and thanks for posting your update, always like to catch up with what is going on chez Litlove.

    • I’m so glad you like it! And yes, repetition is another giveaway of lucid dreaming too – that compulsion to go back over and over an incident. I do it so often, but not usually quite so confusingly! My bruised nerve is still tender, but with fingers crossed I think it is improving slowly. I really do hope not to do that too many times… it has NOT been fun. 😦

  3. I love love the, what on earth are they called?, widget things that hold the chair together – the close up.
    Good luck with the essay. I’m finding excuses to begin NaNoWriMo sometime later in Nov and, having been on a 2 day photography course with some very interesting characters and a lot of numbers, am sitting here glugging wine and watching Grease – one of my go to movies.

    My advice, if you can’t sleep don’t wear the bloody mouthguard – a plague on them.

    • Ah Mrs C you are a woman of taste when it comes to design! I have a conviction that great art can’t be hurried and that it’s exhausting whenever it happens. Grease sounds like the perfect movie with which to recover from a bout of severe creativity. 🙂 I must watch it again myself! And I hear you about the mouthguard – I can easily see myself leaving it on the bedside table if it causes too much trouble!

      • OMG just got back from seeing Wadjda. Seen it? Brilliant. My creative synapses went so into overdrive while watching that having got home I am now prone on the sofa with 5 pages of IDEAS in my notebook.

      • No, I do not know this film – will have to look it up! It’s so wonderful when an artwork becomes properly inspirational like that. Just the best feeling!

      • First saudi female director, first saudi female child star, all filmed in Saudi! and a damn good story. I am sure you will like it. I think it’s art houses only now but surely Cambridge has some of those.

  4. Your Mister certainly does beautiful woodwork! And, “I felt my eyelids begin to crack open with what seemed like the grinding noise of a portcullis being wheeled up,” what a great simile! See, you still have your inspired moments even with all those challenges staring you in the face. Remember, “nothing concentrates the mind so wonderfully as the last minute.” You’ll get your essay done. 🙂

    • Aw, bless you! I did get my essay done – by the skin of my teeth. I organised myself to write 6-700 words a day and managed to get it done in pieces that I then tacked together. I’m not sure it’ll be my finest hour, but at least I got something written!

  5. Oh God, your dream is exactly the dream I have always feared having myself. I watched a movie, Waking Life it was called maybe?, years ago that talked about lucid dreaming. The protagonist was never sure if he was still in a dream, and he kept waking up and waking up and waking up into layers and layers of dreams. It scared me so much. My boyfriend at the time very much wanted to train himself to do lucid dreaming, and I had too up until seeing this movie, but once we watched the movie, I took against lucid dreaming for life.

    That is a beautiful, beautiful chair! Well done Mr. Litlove!

    • Okay, note to self: never ever watch Waking Life….. Thank you for the warning! If you don’t lucid dream then I see no reason at all to wish to do so. Although sometimes it can be funny, but you are so good at seeing the amusing side of things anyway. You don’t need the push. And thank you for your praise – Mr Litlove is a very happy man in consequence!

  6. Gorgeous chair! (Is Mr Litlove taking orders?) As for your dream, it sounds pretty anxiety-inducing but brilliantly described. Pity you can’t write about dreams for your essay. Good luck with the essay!

    • Hah, Mr Litlove and I differ on the order taking (I think he could, but he’s not quite ready and one must always respect the artist, etc, etc). It IS a shame that dreams are so hard to write about, because I certainly have plenty of material! 🙂 Thank you for the good luck wishes – I feel certain they helped!

  7. The Bears want to know if Mr Litlove would do them a Goldilocks’ set, please and send serious commiserations about the dream; there is nothing worse than a dream from which you can’t escape, especially that feeling that you have escaped when you haven’t.

    • Oh wouldn’t the Bears look wonderful thus posed? You put your finger on it as usual – it was particularly galling for me to think I had escaped and then to find out I hadn’t. I must tell my unconscious mind: escape is too important a notion to mess with!

  8. Is Mister Litlove’s familiar the unfortunate cat who was nearly eaten by a puppy you didn’t buy in your last post? 🙂

    That nightmare is truly terrifying, oof, I hope I never have one like that. Why don’t you just print that out for your assignment? And, erm, add a few bits to up the word count.

    You know that it’s a very good thing your home address isn’t on the internet, because it it were, about 200 readers, headed by me, would be stampeding over there to kidnap Mister Litlove and lock him in a dungeon under strict orders to make us all endless bookcases and chairs…

    • Oh Helen, you are hilarious! Yes, that is the cat with a protection order on his head. It is safe to say he taunts me with it. You have no idea how many blog posts I considered as the possible basis for an essay with a few bits added to up the word count! In the end I wrote about something completely different, and made it over the finishing line (though heaven knows what I wrote, really). And you have made Mr Litlove obscenely smug with your comment. He is very enamoured indeed of the idea of being kidnapped for his woodworking skills! 🙂

  9. Oh dear, that was quite the dream!

    Mr. Litlove’s chair is beautiful. Will he be making more so they can all go round your dinner table?

    I am glad your tooth is feeling a bit better. Fingers crossed that it continues to improve. Sorry about the cold though. As for the essay, I know you can come up with something! I wrote a 15 page research paper in library school while suffering from a bad case of vertigo and still somehow pulled off an A-. So I have confidence you can do do an essay for your class!

    • Stefanie, writing an essay with a bad case of vertigo must rank up there as heroism of the highest order! I am in awe. I did get my essay finished (just in time), phew. I don’t like working to an encroaching deadline, but at least I did it. Mr Litlove does have a plan to make a full set of chairs (and I am right behind it), but he also made the mistake of mooning over plans for a rocking chair and I am trying to twist his arm now about that. Now he says he has to work up to it Sigh! I will continue to think of ways to blackmail him. 🙂

  10. I’ve had a few dreams from which I awoke into a nother dream and another dream. It gets scary after a while. But you know what is very strange, it always happened when I slept during the day – when I was ill or so. isn’t that weird. You too, slept during the day. I think the quality of dreams are entirely different and I find those daytime dreams often far more interesting or surreal.
    The “digestive” chair made me laugh.

    • How about that. I’d never thought of it before, but I think you’re onto something. Dreams in the daytime ARE very different in quality to dreams at night. Hmm, I’ll have to think more about that.

  11. I hope you’ve improved still more by now, litlove. Yet again you must be very proud and appreciative of Mr. Litlove’s artsy woodwork. Indeed the chair here and the book cases in the past all are works of art. On another note… thanks for intro. me to Stella Rimington, I’m now listening to the CD’s of her book Illegal Action. I’m really interested in her now, since I’m at the same time reading Ian McEwan’s Sweet Tooth. Film rights had been sold already for it. 😉

    • I am indeed very proud of Mr Litlove; and very pleased to still be the recipient of the things he makes! He often lacks confidence in himself, so it’s lovely when you say he makes artworks – I think that too! And I’m so glad you’re enjoying Stella Rimington. I will be most interested to hear how you get on with Sweet Tooth, too. I do hope you review it!

  12. My husband does woodworking and says that chairs are difficult and that’s a good one. Well done, Mr. Litlove.

    How’s the writing going? I’m doing a personal narrative piece about church camp, believe it or not.

    • That is extremely nice of you and your husband, Jenny, thank you! I got my essay done for the deadline, which was a relief. Now of course, I’m not sure what to do next! I can easily believe that you are writing about church camp – one of the big essay pieces we were given in the class was about a young male reporter who went to a Christian rock festival and it made for interesting reading. Let me know if you piece goes up anywhere I can read it – I’d love to!

  13. You really have some pretty interesting dreams! I usually dream I’m working. Very boring. The chair is fantastic! A perfect place to sit and write your essay! You’ll do brilliantly.

    • So glad you like the chair, Grad. It is very comfortable and very good for the posture – something I most definitely need as I’m a dreadful slumper-over-the-laptop. It’s kind of interesting that you dream about work – of course, it all depends on the execution really, and what you make of it in the dream! I think boring dreams may well make for good sleep, though, which is very desirable! 🙂

    • I’m so glad you like the chair! And my tooth is gradually feeling better, though the swelling isn’t going down yet. Sigh. I really must remember not to do this one twice! And lucid dreaming is sort of interesting, but you could easily live without it! 🙂

  14. Beautiful chair! Weird dream. It strikes me as very literary. It’s the type of dream a novelist would put in a novel. Quite appropriate for you. I’m sorry about the mouth guard. I hope you get used to it.

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