18 weeks since last entry. Way to go!
I'll make excuses another time.
Just wanted to write quick before I pass out. (which I should've done 37 minutes ago)
I had one of my worst dreams ever last night and woke up shaking. I dunno if I was shaking because of the cold or if I was physically reacting to the most real fear and terror I've ever experienced in a dream. Usually my dreams have a whimsical bend to them, even if they're supposedly serious.
This has been the second of what I will call my "Post Apocalyptic" series of dreams within the last few months. There are several movies I could blame for this but I think the feelings of last night's were based more on
what happened yesterday. Now, my dream had nothing to do with malls or even guns but it did take place in Omaha (in Stacie's basement) and it involved my dearest friends being gruesomely taken away from me one by one in what I can only describe as some sort of violent plague. Something airborne that took them away and left only the most awful, twisted, soulless version of them possible. I can blame the mental scarring I think I received from watching 30 Days of Night and The Mist and I can blame my feelings of fear and anger over yesterday that I think had a more profound effect on me than I realized at the time (but felt very much all day today).
The entire day was a very wrong-foot sort of ordeal. Driving through our first heavy snowfall to get to work, I was running late because of road conditions and laziness (plus stupidity) and when I jumped out of my car, I managed to shut my knee in the car door. (it still hurts)
The radio seemed like it was trying to help by playing "Groove Is In The Heart" out of nowhere, but alas I've been pretty depressed/off-feeling all day and in desperate need of a hug that I did not ever receive (nor did I solicit).
I'm sort of concerned about what terrible sort of world I'll visit in my sleep, tonight. My dreams usually don't effect me as profoundly and physically as this last one did but they have, of late, been very dark.
Hopefully I will soon return to the sort of ridiculous dreamscapes wherein Joss Whedon unravels my pants with the tug of a single thread.
(yes, you read that correctly... and i swear to you it was totally innocent)