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When one is concerned about several depressed friends, and others with health problems, it is inadvisable to:
1. Have a long, involved dream which ends prominently with your cell phone ringtone;
2. Mistake said ringtone for the Real Thing, causing you to wake yourself up unexpectedly and violently;
3. Fall out of bed trying to get up because your feet are still tangled in your cocoon-like blankets;
4. Startle the cat(s) asleep in your desk chair because said cat(s) have *moved* said chair over the course of the three hours or so you've actually slept;
5. Trip over your semi-new coffee table when said cat(s) launch themselves from said chair when you bump into it because you have neglected to turn on any lights in your hurry to get to your phone;
6. Find out your phone *has not* rung, and you dreamed the ringtone going off.
Ow.
On another note, apparently a certain tall, blonde, and stupid of my acquaintance is vain enough (in my dream, anyway,) to put me under a death sentence and cause me to join an ancient order of assassins just because I broke his favorite Art Deco clock (which turned out in the dream to be a cheap '70s reproduction, anyway.) Who knew?
1. Have a long, involved dream which ends prominently with your cell phone ringtone;
2. Mistake said ringtone for the Real Thing, causing you to wake yourself up unexpectedly and violently;
3. Fall out of bed trying to get up because your feet are still tangled in your cocoon-like blankets;
4. Startle the cat(s) asleep in your desk chair because said cat(s) have *moved* said chair over the course of the three hours or so you've actually slept;
5. Trip over your semi-new coffee table when said cat(s) launch themselves from said chair when you bump into it because you have neglected to turn on any lights in your hurry to get to your phone;
6. Find out your phone *has not* rung, and you dreamed the ringtone going off.
Ow.
On another note, apparently a certain tall, blonde, and stupid of my acquaintance is vain enough (in my dream, anyway,) to put me under a death sentence and cause me to join an ancient order of assassins just because I broke his favorite Art Deco clock (which turned out in the dream to be a cheap '70s reproduction, anyway.) Who knew?
