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Apr. 5th, 2005 12:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oakenguySo, maybe I was a little premature in talking yesterday about how well the healing was progressing. I got home at 5:45, sat down for "a fifteen minute nap"...and woke up at 9. Hmmph.
And when I settled in for sleep again, I had a long, involved dream about being a member of a small circus troupe travelling to a gig in Canada. We had to get a motel across the border in NY (Canada didn't allow circus folk to stay in their country overnight, apparently), which was awkward; what was even more awkward was that when we arrived at the gig with our our 'rig', which was a 40-foot high ladder, we discovered that our patron and sole audience member was...a sentient silver horse head mounted on a wall. In a closet. Who was, of course, totally unable to see anything going on over three feet above him.
This, added to my dream on Saturday that I was using CSI methods to hunt a killer who was made entirely out of silverware, makes me wonder what sort of strange relationship to metal I have going on these days.
On the bright side, my cold seems to be mostly gone--I'm guessing it's partly that the threat of Deb's Dreaded Chinese Tea is causing a reaction similar to Discworld dwarf bread, and partly that my white blood cells are just gleeful to have a project they can handle.
And when I settled in for sleep again, I had a long, involved dream about being a member of a small circus troupe travelling to a gig in Canada. We had to get a motel across the border in NY (Canada didn't allow circus folk to stay in their country overnight, apparently), which was awkward; what was even more awkward was that when we arrived at the gig with our our 'rig', which was a 40-foot high ladder, we discovered that our patron and sole audience member was...a sentient silver horse head mounted on a wall. In a closet. Who was, of course, totally unable to see anything going on over three feet above him.
This, added to my dream on Saturday that I was using CSI methods to hunt a killer who was made entirely out of silverware, makes me wonder what sort of strange relationship to metal I have going on these days.
On the bright side, my cold seems to be mostly gone--I'm guessing it's partly that the threat of Deb's Dreaded Chinese Tea is causing a reaction similar to Discworld dwarf bread, and partly that my white blood cells are just gleeful to have a project they can handle.
