Tue 2010-06-01 20:00
What is it about 0200?
My dreams were as intense as usual - I felt the sensation of knowing they were to be transcribed as is my way, but something pulled at me as if I had a string attached to my forehead & chest, sitting me bolt upright. Within moments came the moo: the vibration of my phone. It was either going to be a server alert or an email from the nightshift ninja. I was hoping for the exponentially more exciting 2nd possibility.
Sure enough, it was the 2nd. The timing was most excellent. This had happened before, months ago, but I was surprized to see the return. A skeptic would say coincidence, a romantic idealist would say subspace. I prefer the latter: life’s too short to not dream. I understand magic better than I did half a year ago.
We conversed for a period, then the replies dried up as work seeped back in. I had hoped to just crash at this point, but I was so wide awake I didn't know what to do with myself, so I found a philosophy discussion podcast & let that run while I drifted - or at least tried to - back to sleep. The rest of the night was spent in one of 2 states: sweating & almost sleeping; not sweating & not sleeping.
The usual method of sleep induction didn't work for me: in fact these days it only serves to invigorate until the 3rd or 4th time at which point I'm punch-drunk on flames.
In the end I gave up & went into the office early to do a job that didn't really require me to be in the office but I just had to get out of my room for a while.
Summoned back to my lair, I had fun playing, listening to the Air as it whispered. I attained said punch-drunkenness, the last part of which was alot of fun to draw out. I then proceeded to laugh. Alot. My body was tickled, my mind filled, my hunger almost satiated - at least as much as it could be without another body close at hand.
As with other times before, Time had dissolved, so I started my day again with a quick shower, then out the door - strangely, off to have my rear end examined.
It seemed to be the most logical solution.
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