riz

I laid on my couch for 7 hours last night and maybe snagged 2 real hours of sleep. During that time I dreamed of Schwarzkopf my first real love, the one that recently got married. He was talking about the classic sexual tension between him and the old (virginal) me.

We were in California and I'd made it big and he came out to hang out. All the old tensions were there. That's two dreams about him in one week. I haven't dreamed about him in years. That's no good right there, no good at all.

I remember in the dream hiding in the bathroom with the lights off and just the glow from under the door to let me see myself in the mirror. And I stared myself in the eyes while all my friends were searching the house for me, cause I was supposed to be somewhere important and I whispered to myself "You were meant to be alone." And then I woke up.

I wrote another couple scenes on the book last night. I also started a side project, a screen play that's been floating around in my head for a year or so now. It keeps popping up so I finally decided to write out the scene that won't die in my head. I thought this would curb my dreams, but I fear it just intesified them.

The lack of sleep is making me depressed. Part of me just wants to call in work sick today and then not leave the house all day, but just sit and lay and all day doing nothing. Mom's got her surgery tomorrow, too. That might be it. I'm hoping they dont' find anything. I'm worried though.