Sleep

I had a crappy night. I flew out of bed at I don't know what time, but it was pitch black outside. The rain had stopped by then. My sleep was very unsettled. I had strange dreams all night and kept turning over, aching every time I did so.
I remember one peculiar dream. I was in London. In the dream I was in Notting Hill, but the place looked like Queen's Park. It was nowhere that I recognise in real life, but I was walking down the road houses that belonged to my grandparents and great-grandparent. What a load of crap. Then there was the familiar bit of going round the corner to near a flyover, waiting for a bus, and then waking up. That part of the dream really gets on my nerves. There's something menacing about it, but I can never remember what it is.