When I close my eyes
Oct. 16th, 2008 07:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cyranoI'm starting to remember dreams again. I hadn't, since summer camp twenty years ago, for the most part. Except for those sucky dreams where I was responsible for a group of people and somebody kept killing them.
Anyway. I was ambivalent--either all the dreams I wasn't remembering were sucky and miserable like the ones I *did* remember, in which case Good Riddance, or they were cool and magical and a great source of story ideas, like other people had.
There was none of the former, and last night was the first of the latter. And as I lay in bed, running over and over what I could still remember, trying not to lose any more of it, I was simultaneously anguishing. My new schedule means that once the alarm goes off I have no time for frippery or shilly shallying. And so it was with further ambivalence that I looked up, once I'd set what details I could in amber, and found that my body had once again decided that I didn't really need sleep and it was a fair half an hour before I had to get up.
Anyway. I was ambivalent--either all the dreams I wasn't remembering were sucky and miserable like the ones I *did* remember, in which case Good Riddance, or they were cool and magical and a great source of story ideas, like other people had.
There was none of the former, and last night was the first of the latter. And as I lay in bed, running over and over what I could still remember, trying not to lose any more of it, I was simultaneously anguishing. My new schedule means that once the alarm goes off I have no time for frippery or shilly shallying. And so it was with further ambivalence that I looked up, once I'd set what details I could in amber, and found that my body had once again decided that I didn't really need sleep and it was a fair half an hour before I had to get up.