Dreams and stuff
Oct. 21st, 2009 07:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nonionayHaven't been sleeping well lately. Unpleasant dreams are either a cause or a result. Three in a row that have to do with imprisonment. The first involved my fishtank. I wasn't in the fishtank, but there were definite imprisonment themes going on. Second, oh dang, it's fading already. I was in prison witha buncho f friends (don't know what for) and they would come and go as they wanted. I was afraid for all of us, because hey, it's prison and they don't let you do that. Obama visited us.
Last night was the scariest of all. My family and I were traveling to Montana, where my grandparents live, but it turns out my dad didn't have a car. So some lady drove us to Bellevue, and there, my dad stole an SUV. This, of course, freaked me out. While still in town, we stopped at a Mexican restaurant, where my dad carried in a duffel bag with a million dollars some kind of deal with a gangster. (Who wasn't Mexican, mind you.) I asked if said gangster was going to give us a car to do his dirty work in. No. When I left, I was wearing only a sheet. No idea what happened to my clothes. Then, it turned out I hadn't packed any other clothes. I tried to get my dad to get a rental car.
Eventually the cops found us. I soon woke up, but the policelady was nice to me.
This might also be what I get for reading, "I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream," right before bed. Thankfully, I didn't suffocate beneath the weight of The Essential Ellison, which is literally bigger than two Robert Jordan paperbacks placed side by side.
Last night was the scariest of all. My family and I were traveling to Montana, where my grandparents live, but it turns out my dad didn't have a car. So some lady drove us to Bellevue, and there, my dad stole an SUV. This, of course, freaked me out. While still in town, we stopped at a Mexican restaurant, where my dad carried in a duffel bag with a million dollars some kind of deal with a gangster. (Who wasn't Mexican, mind you.) I asked if said gangster was going to give us a car to do his dirty work in. No. When I left, I was wearing only a sheet. No idea what happened to my clothes. Then, it turned out I hadn't packed any other clothes. I tried to get my dad to get a rental car.
Eventually the cops found us. I soon woke up, but the policelady was nice to me.
This might also be what I get for reading, "I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream," right before bed. Thankfully, I didn't suffocate beneath the weight of The Essential Ellison, which is literally bigger than two Robert Jordan paperbacks placed side by side.
