I am officially an Oneironout, where to next?

Dreaming throughout my life, be it short bursts of REM during the strangest and possibly most uncomfortable place to fall, the London Underground, or my 15 hour sleepathons that come and go. For someone who has never had a regular pattern, every dream that sifted through my mind in the brief moments where I have no access to facebook, no phone, and no worries, I have desperately tried to hold on to, and feverishly analyse in the hours when most people come home from work.

Thing is, when I feel like the way I do at times, when it's always me making the effort to call those who I consider close to me, to visit my family, to make sure everybody is alright, including the clueless schmuck buying a pair of socks for his friends new baby (they always spend far too much time, or not enough), I get fed up with being a second thought, and I dream every night about the same things. Whether its being cast aside by a familiar face in a surreal clothes/knick-knacks shop in an imagined alleyway on the other side of the world, or traipsing around a 1970s holiday camp enjoying the sheer crappyness of it all with that same individual at a time that isn't any the clock can show.

All of this serves as an attempt to forget about home for me now no longer serves as the comfort zone that it once was, the one thing I could rely on to always be there for me. I wish I could just walk around the streets without being judged, without feeling bogged down with the stresses of how people view me, and stop worrying about how they never felt about me.

Phillip K. Dick, drug addicted sci-fi genius wrote of a mood organ in 'Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep', and how I now wish to dial into a state of embrace with the endless opportunities ahead, a state of perfect balance in my mental make-up, where the road seems to stretch far beyond the horizon and disregard anything 'home' throws my way.

When that bloody car of mine is up and running and no longer reliant on my feet to propel it along, I want to take a full tank of petrol, and an individual who knows that silences between two people who fully understand each other need not be awkward, and go to places that are not listed in guides, not signposted, and don't have a corny gift shop.

Or I would pay for petrol, either way, as my mini at least is as reliable as I am at waking up at the correct time.