Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Put your faith in a miracle

The problem with only sleeping three or four hours a night is you tend not to settle into a really deep sleep and so sometimes you have really retarded dreams. Last night I had an especially horrifying one in which Our Fictional Welsh Boyfriend kicked the proverbial bucket and all hell
broke loose. It was intense and depressing. Jack finally washes his hands of the human race, stepping into the TARDIS even as Gwen stands there pleading. You can't just leave, we need you. Are you just going to let us all die? The response being a broken you're going to die anyway, I'd rather not be around to see it. Off he goes, having saved the world for the last time. When I woke up this morning I felt as if the world had actually ended. Woe. Clearly my subconcious has a one track mind. Why can't you do uni work in that time, you useless thing? Bah. Proof that every part of me is actually unproductive.

On the other hand, a human being will inhale a disturbing huge amount of bugs in their sleep during their lifetime. So disturbing an amount that I've forgotten what it is. That completely grosses me out. Considering the merits of sleeping with a mask on...

--
From Jasper, with love.
[[Power and speed and death rolled into one]]

3 comments:

  1. That's a terrible dream! I think you eat something like 8 spiders a year!

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  2. *initiates to the club of messed-up dreams* It is truly distressing when that sort of thing happens, isn't it? It's sad how emotionally invested we become in what is, in the end, fiction. Not real. But oh god we hurt when they hurt, we mourn when they mourn, we die when they leave us forever. I still feel like this over Harry Potter.

    *snugs*

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  3. Damn those fictional creations, they're a drain not only on sanity but on emotions too. It was an awful dream D:

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