I spend a lot of my time in dreams in huge elaborate buildings searching for the toilets.
None of that flying rubbish for me, although I did have dreams in which I could fly when I was younger. That plus discovering I was at school without any clothes on. I think the searching for toilets thing started appearing when I was older. I’m guessing it’s something to do with a life time spent with industrial building designs of large institutions like schools and hospitals.
I don’t know about you, but I cannot willingly have a poo in a toilet cubicle like one of these:
I need somewhere more private where I don’t have to worry about broadcasting every sound and smell associated with the business of evacuating my bowels. I know I’m not alone in this. In the last operating theatre block I worked at, the changing rooms had toilets like those in the photo above, but there was another separate toilet out in a back corridor that was completely private, and it was known as the Poo Loo. So don’t look at me like I’m odd.
Another contributing factor to the apparent importance to my psyche of suitable toilets must be several trips to Europe as a younger adult. Heaven knows how French and Italian women managed when they were out and about, if they had public toilets anywhere they certainly kept them a secret from me. I’ve had several day trips made considerably less enjoyable due to unrelieved pressure from my bladder or bowels.
Yes, I’d rather dream about something more enjoyable, like money, cars, or sexy time, but what can you do? The id will out.