It all came to a head while I was desperately trying to remember an appropriate snatch of Shakespeare while waiting for the only bus likely to turn up in the next three hours. I was abruptly overwhelmed by the astonishing unfairness of it all, and in a sort of anxiety damburst everything I'd been worrying about in real life tumbled into the panicky mix, and in desperation I started to Twitter, in my sleep.
Even though the bus did turn up, the damage was done. The top deck was full of nudists and @stephenfry not only noticed my tweet (a situation-tweaked variation on the usual "what would @stephenfry do?") but responded. Which left me composing a wedding speech while carrying on a witty tweet-off with a bored celebrity, while trying to respond to some off-topic emails from bosses one through five, while trying not to look at the nudists.
I was also getting changed into my wedding clothes. You'd think the nudists being there would make that easier, but trust me, no.
It all took a political turn on the twitterphone, and some Condem aide (posting as a cabinet member but clearly not them really) piled in over a tweet that ran "But hurrah I'm about to lose my jooooooooooooooob X-O Thank you David Cameron" (as you can see I had given up on impressing Mr Fry by this stage). He started explaining how no-one who was doing their job well and making a real difference would lose their job, and I was wondering what communication channel could possibly de-programme this (having hit the limit of 140 character virtuosity some time ago), as the rants unfurled in my head...
At 3.30am, my kitten had woken me up with such determination that I'd spent the entire dream having to work round a mass of emo scratches* on my forearms where she'd got all kneady on my arm while trying to lie on my head. But she slept right through this one, gently purring, and I had to wake myself up.
*I'm not actually injured, it was just my subconscious overdramatizing things.