it's 1:41 pm, on September 06, 2002 - commuting.
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Update:
a. panic attacks
b. nightmares resulting from panic attacks
B is far more interesting than A. As I said on LJ this morning: no one should have to be up at six am when they only stopped writing at one. especially if they're going to wake up at three from a nightmares involving Hermione, lord voldemort, Kelowna, and JC. And since it's a me-nightmare, it's not that scary; just a dream that makes no sense and wakes me up eventually, after a series of weird and disturbing occurances.
So, dreams! First off, I was something remarkably like Harry Potter. like, I too felt the painful flashes of lord Voldemort, I too had a scar that gave me headaches. but, okay. the flashes? were of white. like, my vision just went white. And the third of our trio -- me and Hermione's -- was for some reason, Kel, I think. and she had just died and we were stuck in the middle of an airport that was supposed to be in Hope. Hope, by the way, is one of those towns you just pass on through, on your way to somewhere else.
So then, hermione's parents picked us up from the... no, it was a train station, because the Hogwart's express, and all. And they decided to drive us to kelowna to pick up Kel, except, y'know. someone was dead. maybe it wasn't Kel.
This is all just prelude, however, because blah blah blah, eventually, we get to the mental institution where Hermione's father works, and la la la, voldemort was there at one point. And hermione's father is all, "wait, maybe the white flashes are like--" and we go into a room where there's some neo-grunge (I hate nu rock, can I say? they were like baby creed) band playing, only most of them were dressed in white. apparently this was a mental disease where my brain is from. which voldemort has. in which he came to think, over the years, that he does not exist because he's dressed in white.
Therepy bills for that particular revelation, whatever the fuck it is, will go far over my medical coverage, I'm sure.
But! all this is just set-up for the real horror: a video tape voldemort hadd watched was still in the player. at the institution. Dum da dum! and lo and behold, it's footage from the Micky Mouse Club. Of JC.Right, so I say, "voldemort's been after JC all along!"
At which point I wake up, startled, and think, oh, what a nightmare, and add "call shrink" to my ever growing to-do list.
Hah! To-do list segueways nicely into A, which is the panic attacks that are keeping me from more than four hours of sleep a night. Not only can I not sleep, but the anxiety comes from (among other things), get this: the fear that I won't be able to sleep. oh irony.
Does panic depress me? upset me? hell no! Ever-growing to-do list is also ever-shortening, since panic is nicely off-set by frantic activity, and so my productivity has shot right through the ceiling in the last four days. I'm feeling great. Insomnia produces work. Who said there wasn't an upside to going crazy?
Lastly, speaking of going crazy: I've started talking to myself in the car on the drive to and from school. See, fuckhole father has taken the faceplate for the stereo away, so I have to make my own fun in the two hour commute each way. This isn't good, as it's still nice enough to have the window rolled down, and traffic is often bad enough that we're stopped and therefore people can hear me. Today I sang all of "baby got back" while bumper to bumper in east van.
Maybe I should wear white; then I'll think I don't exist and stop talking to myself. I don't make very witty conversation anyway.
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