Last night I dreamt I was organising my work AGM which seemed inordinately complicated. I was instructed by the Chair that I had to open the meeting with a brief word of welcome. I stood in front of a lecture theatre full of lawyers and metaphorically began to shit myself, fumbling with my words and unable to speak.
I was then suddenly transported to a sort of tattoo parlour/surgery where I was observing an immensely dorky-looking, pasty, reed-thin guy subjecting himself to all manner of superficial bodily mutilation. Tribal scarring left a bloody mess of his back and thousands of pins jammed into each nerve point of his body made him resemble a gory human pin cushion. As I stood before him, his eyes peered both into me and through me, frightening and intense, as he fought to transcend the agony.
What the correlation was between those two equally disturbing events remains a complete mystery to me.