Three Hours Sleep

Stayed up late. Got up early. Couldn’t sleep. Dreams again . . . bizarre stuff . . . like I was tricked into making a motion at a board meeting to oust one of the directors, getting me blackballed by writers and writing groups throughout the nation, not to mention the somewhat substantial wrath of the director I was responsible for ousting. Silly stuff, that . . . like MB was due to pick me up, take me home with her and I couldn’t stop crying while I packed my stuff. A broken dream, that one. I had no options, no place to go . . . like I met an old man with long grey chin whiskers on an airplane. He seemed wise and interesting and somewhat familiar. I wanted to know him better. I wanted to know everything. We were going to Russia. I felt like he could change my life. Then the plane crashed . . . like I got to go to the Oscars! I was one of the seat fillers, dressed in my gold gown, with a short Halle hair-do (like when she won). I sat beside Robin Williams and thought I would pee myself . . .

So many more. So little rest.

Mood: i am a total freak
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: boys in their morning rituals
Hair: up and out of the way

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