Cornflake Girl
Nov. 5th, 2003 05:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cleolindaWell, it's official: everyone I know, save Inky (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jedi_funk), is sick. Eric is sick (but still funny, goddammit); Vladimir is having ear trouble; and Valerie has pink eye. I can't keep anything down but cereal, for some reason (I thought milk and dairy were kryptonite when you had the flu?), but my face is easing up. Still not going to class, though. Have arranged for Clifton to collect next week's workshop fodder and leave it in his box for me.
Was having bad dreams still--the most bizarre images included:
1) lions and tigers and bears (I shit you not) rumbling around in muzzles;
2) having to dismantle some kind of interface and doing so by ripping buttons numbered 6 and 8 completely out of the wall;
3) sitting at a table eating Chinese with old high school friends until a drinking straw sprouts spinning razors and kills one of them. We are spies, by the way;
4) Stephen King appears incognito as the leader of the resistance (again: not going to ask;
5) the "resistance" being lined up, one by one, and handed the instrument of destruction--a clear pink plastic tube, I don't know--and voluntarily offing themselves...one by one;
6) being chased through a building that turned from a school to a church basement to a shaolin temple (don't ask--I'm not going to) to a Wal-Mart to a labyrinth;
and then I woke up. I have no idea why all my dreams over the last several months have involved me trying to run and/or hide from something.
This morning I was having better dreams, though--less sinister over all. Something about people in teapot boats and Harry Potter trying to check out a book at the library while minding a babysitting charge (serves me right for reading Fandom Wank late into the night). But at least I wasn't being chased or shot with pink plastic.
jedi_funk), is sick. Eric is sick (but still funny, goddammit); Vladimir is having ear trouble; and Valerie has pink eye. I can't keep anything down but cereal, for some reason (I thought milk and dairy were kryptonite when you had the flu?), but my face is easing up. Still not going to class, though. Have arranged for Clifton to collect next week's workshop fodder and leave it in his box for me.Was having bad dreams still--the most bizarre images included:
1) lions and tigers and bears (I shit you not) rumbling around in muzzles;
2) having to dismantle some kind of interface and doing so by ripping buttons numbered 6 and 8 completely out of the wall;
3) sitting at a table eating Chinese with old high school friends until a drinking straw sprouts spinning razors and kills one of them. We are spies, by the way;
4) Stephen King appears incognito as the leader of the resistance (again: not going to ask;
5) the "resistance" being lined up, one by one, and handed the instrument of destruction--a clear pink plastic tube, I don't know--and voluntarily offing themselves...one by one;
6) being chased through a building that turned from a school to a church basement to a shaolin temple (don't ask--I'm not going to) to a Wal-Mart to a labyrinth;
and then I woke up. I have no idea why all my dreams over the last several months have involved me trying to run and/or hide from something.
This morning I was having better dreams, though--less sinister over all. Something about people in teapot boats and Harry Potter trying to check out a book at the library while minding a babysitting charge (serves me right for reading Fandom Wank late into the night). But at least I wasn't being chased or shot with pink plastic.
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Date: 2003-11-05 06:55 pm (UTC)