it's 8:19 am, on March 24, 2002 - insomnia.
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Dreaming again. SRI, *nsync, and marionettes all made major appearances.
I hate waking up all night, and then waking up at five in the morning and not being able to get back to sleep. I mean, usually? I get lots of sleep. I need lots of sleep. It might be at weird times of the day, every day, but at least I get it in nice, long, comfortable bouts.
Day before yesterday, I went to bed at seven in the morning, woke up at noon. Then went to bed at nine or ten that night, woke up, right on schedule, at one am, three am, four am, and finally five, for good. Each time, I was dreaming about something else.
Speaking of insomnia, what the hell is Kevin Richardson doing in my dreams? Tell me this. And promoting his new marionette, and a solo career. While I'm in the audience of his showcase. I'm so confused.
This is a new guerilla attack, by my subconscious, to make me capitulate. Why else would the dirty old monkey man appear, singing and dancing, in front of an audience of record execs, radio personalities, and me, to pimp his new work?
No one liked him, either.
Since the horror at finding Kevin in my dreams kept me up for a while, I ate the last cinnamon bun, fluttered around my kitchen for a little while, and wished I was asleep.
So, but, then, went to sleep again. This is when the SRI started showing up; I dreamed about the internet. Something about emailing D because he disappeared off the face of the earth. and being worried, emotional. or something. Not only that, but in my cousin's house.
Wake up. Get confused. Drift back to sleep-- we're chatting. All I remember is making him promise that if he disappears, to let me know he's okay. Is this my subconscious alerting me to buried abandonment issues, or a sign that I spend too much time on the computer? You make the call.
Drift back to sleep, after a long period of sitting in the dark, thinking about sleep but not achieving it.
Some time during this dream, *nsync had sex. All of them. Chris and Joey had girls, and they were all having an orgy type thing, and I was Lance (again) and Justin was underneath me, and JC was behind me. This threesome, for the record, is a little disturbing. Less so than Kevin Richardson, but I do have to wonder what I've done to piss my subconscious off enough that I dreamed about Kevin and sex in the same night.
For some reason, me-as-Lance was all bitter yet in love with Justin, and couldn't say it. JC knew this. Justin did not. Lance kept clawing at Justin. Why, I ask my brain. Why. Brain has no answer. Did I eat something that disagreed with me? Distinct possibility.
SRI appeared, yet again, in the form of, something to do with Lance brushing his teeth. I think. There was much more to do with this dream, and something about Joey, but all I can remember is Lance grasping at Justin, and Justin saying, "hey, stop clawing my chest." I suppose this means it's the important part. Sure.
Brain on crack? Check.
It's quarter past eight in the morning, and I'm sitting here wishing, still, that I was asleep. Annoyed, I am, despite having been shown pictures of Howie and Britney that could be their wedding photos. This excites me, because Howie and Britney together would flood whatever room they were in with a field of cute so happy and shiny that no one would escape.
Now I'm sitting, and trying not to write this JC/Lance/Justin threesome, because it's pretty fucking high on the list of things I'm never going to write.
I took this quiz, and it said I was a grape. I want to be a pommegranate. Also, wealthy.
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