In the night(mare) garden

Never did I think that gardening would seep into my nocturnal mind and, like the worst bindweed, take hold in the middle of the night.


I woke up from a vivid dream during the week, feeling sad. Bad dreams have that ability, as if it should make no difference that its your imagination at play. May as well be real.


Just why do nightmares exist? They're just not fair really, are they? There's plenty else troubling us. Daily stresses from work, responsibilities and well, having to deal with bad people. If journalists are to be believed these are politicians, rioters, bankers, civil servants, the police, Rupert and James Murdoch, Joey Barton, immigrants and the grey squirrel. 


But you should never believe what you read in the papers probably because they hide the fact that bad people are in fact the usual culprits estate agents, traffic wardens, the Dragons from Dragons Den (all those broken dreams), wasps (just evil) and, er, journalists. 


And as if to make things worse, good dreams are amazing but there appears to be only one BFG in this world to deliver them. As I live on the ground floor I think he keeps missing me.


I have a lovely, if rampant bay tree in my garden. After a year of not being touched bar the odd few leaves picked here and there I decided to give it a trim and use the leaves. Since then it has spawned shoots, fresh leaves and is reaching for the high heavens. I love it.

My roast chicken is now the finest in Bristol, thanks to this treat of a tree; my vegetable lasagne the envy of all those who have never tried it. My freezer is overflowing too, so prolific is its crop, and I do wonder if I should offer to supply the greengrocer?


Now, our true selves are revealed only when drunk or dreaming. (Although I might have been drunk when I heard that. Or dreaming).


Well, if it's true then my greatest fear is the loss of my bay tree. Yes, my heavy heart was caused by the playing out of a story in my sleep, where I was extolling the virtues of this hardy herb to a visitor. Eager to show off its wonder I took my guest outside where all I saw was a tree, dying, it's bark rotting and a handful of leaves to its once proud crown.


I wish I could say I jumped out of bed to reassure myself that it was indeed all a dream. But I was stuck in Holiday Inn Preston. Not a bay tree in sight. Just a bus station.

Bet you never thought you'd see this on a garden blog. I think it's a striking building, but you may not agree...

For all I know this dream could have been a premonition, a call for help from the garden, the sign of a now unbreakable bond - a bit like twins...12 hours later and I was back on home turf and finally got to rush out to the garden and inspect the damage. And no, I'm no mystic Tom. My bay tree was laughing at me, with more leaves than ever and harbouring this beast:

A reassuring sigh later, I was picking its leaves for the pot wondering quite what the horrors that forthcoming night would bring...