the flying squirrel

Darcy Casselman's weblog. Just like old times.

yesterday was an odd day

I had a dream last night. Mr. T was in it. I really don't want to think too hard about why Mr. T would be invading my subconscious. But it was a cool dream—the kind I used to have when I was a kid, wherein I'd save the world or whatever. Of course, in this dream, Mr. T was doing most of the actual leg work. I got in a few cool action scenes, though.

Again, I'm not going to analyze this. I've always liked that I portray myself as the Hero in my dreams. It makes me think there may yet be hope for me. If there's more to it than that, I don't want to hear about it. So there.

Then I woke up with a really terrible headache. I downed all the pain-killers and decongestants I could and decided to get dressed and walk it off outside. Pressure changes, I think. Maybe anxiety, too. I dunno. I considered calling in sick this morning, but I was pretty good when I woke up. Waking up at 3:30 to walk around the neighbourhood for a half-hour does nothing in my attempts to pay down my sleep debt, however. I could use a nap right about now.

Maybe Mr. T will come back for an epilogue...

My sister's coming into town tomorrow to visit a friend. I've offered to take her out for lunch or something. This should be interesting.