It was hot last night. Like in swelteringly, unpleasantly, stickily hot. I have this clever fan that works on a timer, because normally I get cold after a bit. Last night, however, every time the thing went off I woke up feeling like a muffin in an oven. Seriously. And I had one of those killer mosquitoes. Which bit me just where I can’t reach to scratch. Bastard.
And it was full moon.
Boy, did I dream. First of being in a plane crash. We took off, and as we lifted into the sky, I heard the engines splutter and fade. Out of my window I watched as the land came hurtling toward us, panic rising. I think the fan switched off at that point because either I woke, or the rest is lost in the sands of sleep.
Then my recurring one. But with a twist. I was with a whole lot of friends and people I love who were all being mean to me in a very luxurious hotel at the seaside full of lifts and escalators. They were all being mean to me. Until I ran away. Then a bit of a blurry bit, until I was running along a coastal dust road, trying to get back to them. First I kept running too fast, and missing the entrance, then when I got in, I couldn’t get to my family, I was too tired, and my legs weren’t obeying me (the recurring bit). It was horrible, and I woke up filled with anxiety. Ugh.
Twenty+ degree nights, paired with the full, silvery moon (as pretty as she is in her finery) are not good for my psyche apparently.
I’m fun today, aren’t I?
16 hours ago