The dream I had... not last night, but the night before. I would've written about it yesterday, but I am woefully incompetent. Anyway, it happened in Stamford Hill.
I don't know why. I've never even been to Stamford Hill. I've been through it a few times, usually on trains (but sometimes via bus), but from what I can recall of Stamford Hill railway station, I can categorically state that there isn't a quasi-industrial red grate walkway that leads out of the station directly into a residential block of high-rise flats...
...which, of course, I traversed...
...nor is there a school (catering for an undetermined age group, to my relief) hidden inside said (non-existent) block of flats.
Which, of course, is where the sex happened. Although not with a student. Again, to my main relief.
In fact, I don't recall actually dreaming about having sex. I definitely went there for sex. It was a gentle hearken back to the days wherein I would traverse random bits of London to have sex - which sometimes worked, and sometimes didn't - but this time was so weird. I was meeting a girl to have sex with her in a school staff room. In a block of flats. In Stamford Hill.
I remember the girl being there when I got to the staff room. I don't remember who she was - maybe she was a construct; I don't even think she was a real person. (Again, this is to my relief.) I remember her being short, very short; when she jumped on me, her feet left the ground. Her hair was longish, and I seem to remember it being blonde. But this was a couple of days ago, as I said, and the detals may be sketchy.
"Hey! What's going on here?" said a random teacher, who happened to be in what I had assumed to be the vacant staff room. Scarily, I know exactly who this teacher was, as he exists in real life; his name is David, he teaches English and I've met him. I pretended not to know him... or Sarah, the other teacher who was with him. Again, she is a real teacher. The girl teacher I was with (I don't have a name, although there was one in the dream, I have forgotten it) was more concerned with kissing bits of me than speaking, so I made the excuse of pretending we had been discussing lesson plans (which I miraculously had in my hand).
This was a lame excuse, as that was clearly not what we were doing.
"Oh yeah, discussing lesson plans," snarked David, while Sarah gave an irritating giggle. "That's clearly not what you're doing." His tone appeared to suggest that random making out happened a lot in this particular school staff room. In a school hidden in a block of flats. In Stamford Hill.
As far as I can recall, that's where the dream ended. I don't actually remember getting around to having sex with whoever it was I was supposed to be having sex with. But, hey. It was vivid, it was unusual, it was colourful and exciting, and it didn't have Einstein in it, unlike some other sex dreams, so that's always a bonus.
Still... Still? Stamford Hill? Seriously?
Excuse me while I just go and investigate...