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Last night I got a text message at about 11:15 chiding me for not writing a lunch money check for the little Cwab and hinting that Mrs. Cwabs wouldn't be coming home. "Hope you had a good night...painting now..." is code for "I'm not coming home." At about 11:30, I fell asleep.
At 1:15, I woke up completely and ran the gamut of things to try to fall asleep again, with the exception of alcohol. I finally fell asleep a little before 4. The alarm went off at 4:30, and I reset it for 5:30 as getting more than two hours of sleep was more important than getting to the gym before work.
Over that hour and a half I dreamed that I was living in a large attic-like apartment with no windows, although light came in through slats in the walls. The space was probably a hundred feet long by twenty feet wide, and dotted with lounging and sleeping furniture. Someone had decided to use my apartment as a bed and breakfast, and strangers were arranging the furniture so that they could make makeshift beds for themselves, complaining about the accommodations but at the same time acting as if they were entitled to them. I went through the secret passage into the exterior hall, which was like a normal hotel hall, filled with people (some strangers, some known to me) clamoring to get to sleep in my apartment. I was dressed in my normal sleeping garb, which is naught but boxers.
Suddenly I was on a softball field, still in boxers, watching Mrs. Cwabs pitch a game on a team with her girlfriend (who may be more). They ignored me, then laughed and asked what the hell I thought I was doing there.
The order is probably mixed up--it was a flash of me in giant version of my old apartment, flash of strangers trying to arrange my furniture, flash of softball, flash of people I know standing in line, flash of hallway, flash of secret passage, flash of strangers arranging furniture, the way dreams are.
I've long held the belief that dreams are merely your subconscious mind's way of sorting the data you pull off the mental shelves over your waking time back into some sort of organization, filing it and putting it away. That doesn't mean they can't be interesting.
At 1:15, I woke up completely and ran the gamut of things to try to fall asleep again, with the exception of alcohol. I finally fell asleep a little before 4. The alarm went off at 4:30, and I reset it for 5:30 as getting more than two hours of sleep was more important than getting to the gym before work.
Over that hour and a half I dreamed that I was living in a large attic-like apartment with no windows, although light came in through slats in the walls. The space was probably a hundred feet long by twenty feet wide, and dotted with lounging and sleeping furniture. Someone had decided to use my apartment as a bed and breakfast, and strangers were arranging the furniture so that they could make makeshift beds for themselves, complaining about the accommodations but at the same time acting as if they were entitled to them. I went through the secret passage into the exterior hall, which was like a normal hotel hall, filled with people (some strangers, some known to me) clamoring to get to sleep in my apartment. I was dressed in my normal sleeping garb, which is naught but boxers.
Suddenly I was on a softball field, still in boxers, watching Mrs. Cwabs pitch a game on a team with her girlfriend (who may be more). They ignored me, then laughed and asked what the hell I thought I was doing there.
The order is probably mixed up--it was a flash of me in giant version of my old apartment, flash of strangers trying to arrange my furniture, flash of softball, flash of people I know standing in line, flash of hallway, flash of secret passage, flash of strangers arranging furniture, the way dreams are.
I've long held the belief that dreams are merely your subconscious mind's way of sorting the data you pull off the mental shelves over your waking time back into some sort of organization, filing it and putting it away. That doesn't mean they can't be interesting.
