Back living at my parents’ house, it would seem. I realised they were on to me about my secret, sexual shenanigans and were furious; I had about half an hour to frantically delete files and online accounts before they ransacked my computer for evidence.
I think we’re harking back over ten years with this one. The chances of either of my parents demanding access to my computer to see what I get up to in the hay are, thankfully, nil.
Not that I’m saying there’d be a huge amount for them to find. It’s just, you know.
But I did have a boyfriend who used to check up on me online and log in to my email account to see if I was setting up dates with other dudes. The thing I really find staggering is how long he’d been doing it before I realised. The intimidation tactics that my dream-parents used, and their fury, are what I knew from him.
When I finally split up with that boyfriend (for good), the Wimbledon finals were on. So the next day I watched the entire gentlemen’s match (Federer being put through his paces by Nadal) from the sofa with a bottle of champagne. For a good several years later, I felt a little moment of triumph whenever I realised it was Wimbledon-time again. I think last year was the first time it almost passed me by; we don’t watch live TV in my household and I just happened to swing by a pub that was showing the BBC coverage. Come June, it will have been a decade.
In my studies of the subconscious, I’ve noticed how surprisingly it creates links between one thing and another. When I told my friend A about the third episode in beds, boots and bad debts – when I recieved a threatening demand for loan repayment, postmarked 2007 – I said I couldn’t think why that year, in particular, came up. She pointed out that a full ten years had passed since then and suggested that my subconscious was carrying out a review of what had changed.
bad debts and ok computer feel similar to me; they both show my privacy being invaded, and the threat of (some form of) harm being done to me by others, which I have supposedly incurred on myself. In my dreamscape, images of going back to university, settling debts, ending and beginning relationships, and trying for self-fulfillment without incurring criticism or punishment, are clinging to one another as climbing plants reach out tendrils to bind themselves together. With all these interlinking tendrils, how do we bring a story full-circle?