Was sick yesterday. Had long, untethered loops of dreaming, always coming back to reality with a start. I dreamed I got dizzy, fell down stairs, and heard voices I vaguely remembered; when I got up from the fall, I found somebody had graffitti'd my shoes. Dreamed my entire family moved to an Australian beach town, in a shoddy, rundown hovel of a house populated by the girls who run Go Fug Yourself, with the Ninth Doctor popping in to work on the plumbing and bitch about the leaky roof. Dreamed I was cleaning up the house after moving, carefully organizing near-microscopic screws and machine parts and storing them in the cups of an egg carton.
- Current Mood:tired
- Current Music:Scissor Sisters, "I Can't Decide"
Comments
I think the bit about organizing and storing the tiny screws and machine parts was a metaphor for writing, somehow. It had that feel to it, even though the image comes from having recently reassembled my glasses with a tiny magnifying glass-equipped screwdriver and screws.