Indeed a peculiar dream. The other night i had to fight a chap, in some sort of gladiatorial situation, armed only with a spoon. I stabbed him in the thigh with the handle and i believe he died quite unpleasantly. Did i actually slay some dream denizen, who had some manner of real life unconnected to mine? Or was it some mental problem personified?
The trouble with dreams is, they have very little continuity so its very hard to see anything resembling a world that keeps going after we wake up. If we can control and manipulate our dreams then there is nothing actually solid and real in our dream. There is therefore no need for roads, or cars, or potholes. those are requirements of a material world, which the dream world is surely not. Unless you were having your dream on a layer above a sort of base matter, say a dream terrain, and you traveled over blip or bump in it, which manifested itself as a pothole.
On the other hand. For a road to exist there needs to be a set of rules, like gravity and such. But dream rules rarely match up from one dream to the next. So there would have to be a million little worlds each with there own different rules that we visit every night, like a plague of horrifying godlike ghosts, bending matter to our will and leaving a trail of madness in our wake. Actually that would make quite an interesting story if told from the perspective of a dream chap!

I had a dream last night which involved me driving a large car down a narrow lane with sheer cliffs and sheer drops alternating on both sides. It was raining and there were large puddles through which I careered. Various onlookers expressed open mouthed astonishment that I could negotiate such tricky terrain; but I had a destination in mind, though I had no clear idea what it was. At one point, as I drove through a deep mass of water, I hit a hidden pothole. The car reared up on end, I shot upwards, too, but somehow held onto the steering wheel (the car was open topped, with no seat belts) and was soon back in the driving seat, rampaging on. Eventually, I reached the end of the road, which was blocked by a large brick wall, beyond which I could see a river, and beyond that, a fabulous city. I debated how to cross this river, and was asking myself how I might commandeer a crane from the city to come and lift me and my car across, when I woke up.

The question that keeps troubling me is, who put the pothole where it was? It served no useful purpose, didn’t impede my progress, and was invisible. Either it was:

a. Already there, because I was driving on a road that existed, independently from me
b. Was created by me for an unknown purpose
c. Was created by me as a representation of some relatively minor hindrance in my life to come

My resident dream analyst suggests (c) is most likely, with (b) a close second. She finds (a) difficult to digest. I, on the other hand, firmly subscribe to (a), or a variant of it, finding both (b) and (c) rather flimsy.

It’s come to my attention that some photos I posted recently of an advanced case of fungal infection were thought to be actual images of my own feet. This was not, in fact, the case. I was exaggerating for effect. I’m attaching a genuine photo, so everyone can see the difference: