Search This Blog

Monday, 4 November 2013

REM is a sign of exhaustion, I think

Waking up at 6am was a big fail. Instead of reading through the rest of the paper I saw it was all mostly graphs and maths and skipped through to the conclusions to go to sleep again. I kept waking up, wondering if it was about time for aunt A to want to go to the gym yet. I woke up because the dog barked, because I could hear the toilet going off, because uncle A was making himself breakfast. And yet I had a couple of dreams. I remember two of them half-well.

In one, I was with AOB. He had a very odd phone that looked like a cross between a calculator and a ceiling fan remote control. He wanted to get together with one of the twins but got hung up on, so I made the call for him. Then I got left on hold. 

In another, I was with LesMisGuy. I must say I was half mad at him. Why did you lose all interest after we kissed?! That sort of thing. But only half mad, because I still ended up kissing him. I don't know what led up to the kiss exactly, other than he said something and (not necessarily because of what he said, because I remember being hesitant about it being the right choice) I just leaned in and kissed him. He kissed me back, so I knew it wasn't just me. Next thing I know things are getting sexual and I'm literally dripping wet (which is mostly just a so very strange thing). Couldn't tell you if we actually had sex in the dream. I don't think we did because I remember waking up from that one.

There's a third one where I got away from direct danger, the kind a policeman might get into in a raid, to see a "doctor." There was conflict between two parts and there was a very smart man (having nothing to do with the conflict) that one part had chosen to kept hidden. He was mentoring a little girl. He was in a room full of old filing cabinets, or maybe an overfilled library and I had to squeeze between a wall and a heavy object to get to him in his little table. He was supposedly tending to a wound of mine on my hand, or that was the excuse I used to go to him (well, technically I just looked at my hand and my superior told me to go see him). 

No comments:

Post a Comment