I do find what the brain gets up to at night most odd. I don’t think I am remotely artistic, but I have the weirdest dreams, especially when I am only half-asleep. I dream in vivid Technicolor and in the greatest possible detail. I watch, fascinated, as a parade of faces worthy of Rembrandt drifts by. Sometimes it’s just eyes, noses or mouths that morph from one to the next. They are exquisitely drawn or painted. How did my brain do that, when I can barely draw a matchstick figure? It’s like tripping on LSD. Only reliably pleasant and interesting, not scary. And then there’s the ability of my night-time brain to concoct scenarios more complicated than The Lord of the Rings, and more gruesome than Bluebeard – all in, allegedly, three minutes. I’ve murdered my mother (whom I adored) and abandoned my first husband (to whom I was devoted)...
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