I may be over all that. And I might not be. Anyway, I had to blog about my dreams! There was one where I'd been given the impression that I was attending a video conference, so I put on my new fuzzy pajama pants underneath what, in retrospect, appeared to be a tuxedo top. I open the door and step into a room filled with all the presidents, and I'm supposed to walk past every single guest and go up onstage, I still don't know why. So there's Trump, of all people, laughing at me, my fuzzy pants, and my furry slippers.
Yeah, bizarre. Not a nightmare, though, so I'll take it. I'd like to reject the dream where I'm walking and walking and walking, with no place to go, no destination in mind. Then I start passing out, and fading into and out of consciousness. Total strangers were picking me up and trying to keep me moving.
I also dreamt I was holding the paw of an injured wildcat, and of course it dug its paws into my palm. I could feel it, too.
The worst of the bunch was, my brother showed me a video rec-ently of a rollercoaster gone wrong. Just like in that episode of 6teen, they go up the loop-de-loop, someone pukes, and it splatters everyone when they come zooming back around. And, oh, god, the sound. Well, I dreamt that I was running and running, or crawling on my belly between a fence and really low branches, whatever it took. It was like the zombie apocalypse, but instead of being undead zombies, everyone was alive and had the flu. Their main goal, it seems, was to spread that virus. They wanted to touch me, puke on me, breathe on me, spit on me, whatever it took to make me ill; and I could hear that retching sound from the video in my dream.
I seemed to make it, so....
Lot of fucking weird dreams. Negan in the planetarium, or I'm a bat (the "I want to suck your blood" kind, not the Lucille kind, which would definitely contain some serious face time), the maze of RVs that all look identical and I'm supposed to find mine. The one where I'm Brooke Nevin wandering around in a spaceship, and then I find my (not her) mother, who's only finger-big, so I tuck her in my pocket.
I could probably sleep right now. Actually, lately, I've been sleeping pretty well. Maybe it's my fuzzy pajama pants. Or maybe it's the hot chocolate I've been drinking. Don't know! Last time I tried it, it sent me to the hospital, so I swore it off; a few hours ago, I find out it was home-made with Coffee Mate. Hello? I have a delicate stomach, I do not experiment like that.
It was an eight-pack I got over the holidays. So far I only really like the double chocolate and the marshmallow flavors. It's kind of unfortunate that I went all this time thinking I was allergic to the real stuff, but oh well. Think I'll shop around for more sometime, esp-ecially if I find out that is the reason I'm sleeping better.
One book out of four is going okay. One of those, I haven't touched in years. Ironically it's one people seem to like. I just don't care for it, so I might submit one last chapter only to announce that it's been dropped.
Anyway. Snowing like a bugger now. I might be able to stay home tomorrow. Well, more like in four hours and 45 minutes. Whatev.
....Er. I can never get away with that. Maybe it says something about not having commitment issues.
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