As well as being a rabbit, I am also a cleaner. A washer-upper. The laundry lady. I find my husband’s shoes on the way to the bathroom and move them so no one falls over them. Empty plastic pots lay in the kitchen next to the recycling bin – not actually in the bin but next to it. I move my arm, drop them in the recycling and wonder why the person who left it there didn’t do it.

I just woke up now. What a dream. I dreamt I was getting married. Completely the opposite of how I did get married – on the beach and barefoot. In my dream it was a church and procession, enormous reception hall and a horse and carriage. The whole thing. I had a huge white dress too, the kind with enough netting to recycle into a beam trawl fishery.

But It wasn’t me in the dream. I was an actual different person – and no one who I know. I often dream I’m someone else. Is that normal? Apparently it isn’t – not in my house anyway. My family claim they always dream they’re themselves in some form.

Anyhow, in my dream I wasn’t 100% into about the fancy wedding, but my character was sparky, so I could carry it. And every time I caught myself in the mirror, I looked beautiful. Like weirdly stunning.

So, there it was. I was beautiful and had a dress that I flounced around in. I also went on some mini-adventures, but I can’t quite remember them since I woke up and browsed through the Daily Mail side bar (you can judge me but it’s true). I do know that it didn’t end brilliantly. After the wedding to my dark-haired, dishy husband, who I can confirm was an excellent dream kisser, we entered the reception hall and took to the stage. Everyone started applauding. Hold on, I thought- where was my new husband?

He wasn’t on the stage anymore but in the audience. He was also applauding. That was weird. Oh well, I thought, he’ll join me soon. Nope, my dream went south from there. As I was sitting at the wedding table and waiting for him, joined by my mother who strangely in the dream was my actual mother, I noticed that my new husband had changed from his tuxedo into lounge wear.

He was sitting at another table with people wearing similar attire. And by that I mean really casual. With bad posture. As I zoomed in, I could see they were making their way through a large bowl of popcorn. Hmmm.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

He looked up at me. ‘I just feel more comfortable this way.’

I felt my wedding dress rustle. I woke up.