(no subject)
Last night I had a horrific dream where I was responsible for killing my dog, Daisy, who was for some reason in the shape of a stuffed bassett hound. I didn't want to admit to anyone that I killed Daisy, so I went into exile on a large ship. I awoke from this dream at around quarter to two and, even though I was quite ready to return to sleep, it was clear that I'd have another nightmare, so I forced myself to stay awake for the next hour. It was awful. And I had been sleeping so well this semester.
By the way, it was all accompanied by an enormous sense of guilt. I really hope I wasn't really responsible for killing Daisy.
By the way, it was all accompanied by an enormous sense of guilt. I really hope I wasn't really responsible for killing Daisy.