Dreams, groceries and buses

The past two nights I have had bad dreams - Monday night, two rapes, two murders,and one dismemberment, and Tuesday night Linnea was not legally my child, though I had borne her and was her wetnurse, due to [something that made perfect sense in the dream but I forgot as soon as I woke up]. Luckily, Donal was doing security at the hotel complex and was able to illegally smuggle me out with Linnea in my arms, leaving all my worldly goods behind, so I walked along the motorway in the rain and woke up as I was about to board a bus outside Colaiste Iosagain. I think I'd have been killed if caught, but I'm not sure.

Today I investigated a local supermarket. There was once the number 18 bus, which went to Tescos, and ran about once every blue moon if the wind was in the east. Then the route changed and it only went to Sainsburys Savacenta or whatever it's called. So today I went there.

Urgh. I mean, yes, I hate big shops anyway, but urgh. I managed to buy a small basketful of groceries in about 45 minutes, which is crazy, and then missed my bus. The next one wasn't for an hour and 40 minutes. So I got a different bus instead, and walked home. Linnea was very good, in spite of being dressed for English weather and having snow falling on her when she wanted to be asleep, and my hands are red and swollen from too much cold and carrying shopping too far. We complained about misinformation from a busdriver who told me his bus didn't go anywhere near my destination, causing me another 10 minutes' wait in the snow (ok, not much snow, but it's hard to keep a baby warm when the shops stopped stocking winter clothes a month ago!) and they are going to find out who it was and speak to him. Apparently many of their drivers know nothing of local geography or bus routes other than their own little route.