The same red sweater I wore yesterday
Feb. 12th, 2002 11:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
enteleinI woke up this morning with a dry mouth and a creaky knee, but overall, I think I am feeling much better than I have been as of late.
It's very worrying when one keeps getting sick, with barely a break inbetween armies of germs treating my body like an effing playground. I start to wonder if my general malaise (that's really the best word for it, it really is) really is affecting my health, and if I need to worry about that a little more. I eat well (when I remember to eat, of course, I've been terrible about that this past week with the project I am working on), and I take my vitamins. I dunno.
My dreams were strange, semi-post-apocalyptic adventures -- friends and strangers mutating into super heroes, an evil villain who would give us choices that sucked, hiding out and hijacking cars to get around ...
The evil villain would stand before me, holding a plstic cup with a straw in it. He'd say, "Either you drink the contents of this cup, or you hve to constantly speak the word 'curious' for one month." 'Curious' wasn't the word in the dream actually; I can't remember what it was. It started with a 'c,' though. Anyway. I remember asking him for clarification in the dream, asking him to define one month, and 'constantly,' but since i had used the word 'curious' in asking for clarification, he declared that I had made my decision, and he took the cup away.
I was glad, anyhow, because it had taken all my strength to not think about what was in that cup, and why exactly I should not be drinking the contents. So I sat on a couch and tried to relax, said the word 'curious' every few seconds. If I did not do this, in the dream, I knew he could kill me, kill someone I loved, something terrible.
The ex was in my dream as well, and he was one of the mutating superheroes. He was scared by his transformation, he was bewildered. He and I started making out in the dream, for many minutes of dream time. What the hell.
All this, and I am sitting here, typing, listening to Erasure's Chorus album, which I haven't listened to much since 1995 or so. Memories, triggers, events, sad wistfulness creeping up on me like sleep, like a drug. I am feeling warm and cozy in my sweater, my hair wet and clean, the sun shining through my office window, my memories fighting for top rank in my day.
It's very worrying when one keeps getting sick, with barely a break inbetween armies of germs treating my body like an effing playground. I start to wonder if my general malaise (that's really the best word for it, it really is) really is affecting my health, and if I need to worry about that a little more. I eat well (when I remember to eat, of course, I've been terrible about that this past week with the project I am working on), and I take my vitamins. I dunno.
My dreams were strange, semi-post-apocalyptic adventures -- friends and strangers mutating into super heroes, an evil villain who would give us choices that sucked, hiding out and hijacking cars to get around ...
The evil villain would stand before me, holding a plstic cup with a straw in it. He'd say, "Either you drink the contents of this cup, or you hve to constantly speak the word 'curious' for one month." 'Curious' wasn't the word in the dream actually; I can't remember what it was. It started with a 'c,' though. Anyway. I remember asking him for clarification in the dream, asking him to define one month, and 'constantly,' but since i had used the word 'curious' in asking for clarification, he declared that I had made my decision, and he took the cup away.
I was glad, anyhow, because it had taken all my strength to not think about what was in that cup, and why exactly I should not be drinking the contents. So I sat on a couch and tried to relax, said the word 'curious' every few seconds. If I did not do this, in the dream, I knew he could kill me, kill someone I loved, something terrible.
The ex was in my dream as well, and he was one of the mutating superheroes. He was scared by his transformation, he was bewildered. He and I started making out in the dream, for many minutes of dream time. What the hell.
All this, and I am sitting here, typing, listening to Erasure's Chorus album, which I haven't listened to much since 1995 or so. Memories, triggers, events, sad wistfulness creeping up on me like sleep, like a drug. I am feeling warm and cozy in my sweater, my hair wet and clean, the sun shining through my office window, my memories fighting for top rank in my day.
