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Rough Night....
May. 5th, 2005 07:46 amI feel like shit today.
Yes. Fecal matter.
And it stinks.
Hehehehehehe
I went to bed reasonably early--a little after 10 pm. At 11:05 I woke up from a very bad nightmare. How I could fall that deep into REM and have a very convoluted nightmare in that short a time is beyond me.
The gist of the nightmare was that I was in some place like a college campus, only all the dwellings were little cottages--like cabins on a lake. My roommate was not around. A big event was in progress--there were lots of families in attendance, and there were banquet tables full of food. I dreamed I was gathering food and smuggling it to my cottage--cookies, chocolates, all kinds of goodies that I normally could not afford to buy. I had this plunder on paper plates sitting around the room.
One of my friends introduced me to his parents and his older brother who was a stocky middle aged man, receding hairline, fleshy face. He gave off a very disturbing vibe. Later my friend told me that his brother was mentally ill and was on some very powerful anti-psychotic meds.
Throughout the evening, his brother behaved more and more strangely--freaking me, and probably everyone else out. Finally, I decided enough was enough, and I went back to my cottage. Several of my friends followed me and sprawled out on my roommate's bed and my bed and in the three or four fat easy chairs I had in there. I was embarrassed because (a) my cottage was a god-awful mess (just like my real house) and (b) I had these paper plates full of my ill gotten goodies sitting all over the place. And they were all teasing me about the famine I must be expecting.
Just like in my real college days, I was poverty-stricken and couldn't afford all of those goodies...and since they were free...
I had the door to the cottage open, and we could see the people milling around in the courtyard and hear the music. I was gathering up the cookies and candy and stuff that was laying all over the place, and the chocolate was melting, getting all over my hands and my clothes.
Suddenly there was a commotion in the courtyard. My friend's older brother was running amok. He slashed up his parents and killed them, and then was slashing random people. Everyone was screaming and running. I ran to my door and yelled, "Quick! In here!" And a bunch of people rushed in.
I made eye contact with the crazy man and he started toward my cottage. The panicked people were dithering around, not getting their asses into the cottage very fast, and I knew that if I slammed the door shut, they would all be killed--but if I didn't slam the door shut, he would get in and kill us. I yelled to one of my friends to get the Cutco Butcher Knife out of my drawer--"It's really sharp," I said,"So be careful."
Finally the last person got in and I slammed the door shut, literally in the face of the madman. He was gibbering and laughing on the other side. He slide this enormous blade in between the door and the door frame and started sawing at the lock mechanism. I just knew he was going to get in and kill us all. The door looked so weak and flimsy--and it seemed highly likely he could just kick it in.
The moron who brought me the knife brought me the smallest one--not the paring knife, but the next one in size--looked pretty pathetic compared to the monster blade poking through my door.
All my friends were sniveling and crying and huddled against the far wall, and I stood there at the door way, knowing that when he came through, it would be just me and him. And I was woefully inadequate.
I woke up before he got in, but the door was splintering and the lock was about to give way.
I hate those flippin' dreams. I always feel so powerless and inadequate--and there are always a bunch of helpless people that I am going to be responsible for letting die too.
Sigh.
So I woke up with my heart pounding and all freaked out.
It took me about an hour to settle down enough to sleep after that.
THEN--I woke up again at about 1:30. I barely made it to the bathroom on time to avoid puking everywhere. The crappy Dairy Queen Shrimp Basket I had for supper tasted yukky--apparently, in addition to being a waste of money, it made me sick as well. So, I puked for about 45 minutes--always an entertaining pastime in the dead of night.
Then, of course, I was too riled up to go back to sleep again, so I finished the two cartoons I'd drawn for G_G and did the title page. I scanned them and emailed them to her. At about 3 am I went back to sleep. When the alarm went off at 6:00, I wanted to die. Of course, I felt like crap, so I took a hot bath in hopes that it would make me feel better--which it did. Slightly.
YUCK
Now, I still feel queasy, and my stomach hurts and I do not want to be at school today, but three teachers are gone to the Twins game with 40 of the punkins and one teacher is gone to a conference--and there is only one sub and there are 80 punkins remaining. If I told Jay how I feel, he would send me home, but it would leave the whole school in the lurch, so unless I start puking again, I'm staying here.
But I'll be miserable. Of course, I'd be miserable at home too, so what's the difference.
Bleah.
Yes. Fecal matter.
And it stinks.
Hehehehehehe
I went to bed reasonably early--a little after 10 pm. At 11:05 I woke up from a very bad nightmare. How I could fall that deep into REM and have a very convoluted nightmare in that short a time is beyond me.
The gist of the nightmare was that I was in some place like a college campus, only all the dwellings were little cottages--like cabins on a lake. My roommate was not around. A big event was in progress--there were lots of families in attendance, and there were banquet tables full of food. I dreamed I was gathering food and smuggling it to my cottage--cookies, chocolates, all kinds of goodies that I normally could not afford to buy. I had this plunder on paper plates sitting around the room.
One of my friends introduced me to his parents and his older brother who was a stocky middle aged man, receding hairline, fleshy face. He gave off a very disturbing vibe. Later my friend told me that his brother was mentally ill and was on some very powerful anti-psychotic meds.
Throughout the evening, his brother behaved more and more strangely--freaking me, and probably everyone else out. Finally, I decided enough was enough, and I went back to my cottage. Several of my friends followed me and sprawled out on my roommate's bed and my bed and in the three or four fat easy chairs I had in there. I was embarrassed because (a) my cottage was a god-awful mess (just like my real house) and (b) I had these paper plates full of my ill gotten goodies sitting all over the place. And they were all teasing me about the famine I must be expecting.
Just like in my real college days, I was poverty-stricken and couldn't afford all of those goodies...and since they were free...
I had the door to the cottage open, and we could see the people milling around in the courtyard and hear the music. I was gathering up the cookies and candy and stuff that was laying all over the place, and the chocolate was melting, getting all over my hands and my clothes.
Suddenly there was a commotion in the courtyard. My friend's older brother was running amok. He slashed up his parents and killed them, and then was slashing random people. Everyone was screaming and running. I ran to my door and yelled, "Quick! In here!" And a bunch of people rushed in.
I made eye contact with the crazy man and he started toward my cottage. The panicked people were dithering around, not getting their asses into the cottage very fast, and I knew that if I slammed the door shut, they would all be killed--but if I didn't slam the door shut, he would get in and kill us. I yelled to one of my friends to get the Cutco Butcher Knife out of my drawer--"It's really sharp," I said,"So be careful."
Finally the last person got in and I slammed the door shut, literally in the face of the madman. He was gibbering and laughing on the other side. He slide this enormous blade in between the door and the door frame and started sawing at the lock mechanism. I just knew he was going to get in and kill us all. The door looked so weak and flimsy--and it seemed highly likely he could just kick it in.
The moron who brought me the knife brought me the smallest one--not the paring knife, but the next one in size--looked pretty pathetic compared to the monster blade poking through my door.
All my friends were sniveling and crying and huddled against the far wall, and I stood there at the door way, knowing that when he came through, it would be just me and him. And I was woefully inadequate.
I woke up before he got in, but the door was splintering and the lock was about to give way.
I hate those flippin' dreams. I always feel so powerless and inadequate--and there are always a bunch of helpless people that I am going to be responsible for letting die too.
Sigh.
So I woke up with my heart pounding and all freaked out.
It took me about an hour to settle down enough to sleep after that.
THEN--I woke up again at about 1:30. I barely made it to the bathroom on time to avoid puking everywhere. The crappy Dairy Queen Shrimp Basket I had for supper tasted yukky--apparently, in addition to being a waste of money, it made me sick as well. So, I puked for about 45 minutes--always an entertaining pastime in the dead of night.
Then, of course, I was too riled up to go back to sleep again, so I finished the two cartoons I'd drawn for G_G and did the title page. I scanned them and emailed them to her. At about 3 am I went back to sleep. When the alarm went off at 6:00, I wanted to die. Of course, I felt like crap, so I took a hot bath in hopes that it would make me feel better--which it did. Slightly.
YUCK
Now, I still feel queasy, and my stomach hurts and I do not want to be at school today, but three teachers are gone to the Twins game with 40 of the punkins and one teacher is gone to a conference--and there is only one sub and there are 80 punkins remaining. If I told Jay how I feel, he would send me home, but it would leave the whole school in the lurch, so unless I start puking again, I'm staying here.
But I'll be miserable. Of course, I'd be miserable at home too, so what's the difference.
Bleah.
