I had one of those dreams last night where you die and wake up. It'll happen every so often. In this dream, I was driving down the mountainside with my girlfriend and it was pouring down rain. You couldn't see five feet in front of your hood. The windshield wipers did nothing. The grey skies and grey asphalt all sort of blend together until you can't tell which is which. This is the sort of weather I've been driving in lately. It's been raining so much the roads have been flooding, and the sun doesn't shine all day. So I'm coming to a bend in the road, and I know it's there, but I can't tell how much it's bending. There's no lines on the road that I can see, so I over steer, and I start to spin out of control. The car glides off of the road and flies through the air, spinning as it goes. I fall hundreds of feet in the little downtown core residing beside the cliff side. I have no idea, but I have the feeling my car falls through the roof of a McDonalds. Then I wake up, and it's eight o'clock on a lazy Sunday morning. My voice feels hoarse from the screaming, although I don't utter a word in my sleep.
I spend most of the day reorganizing my bedroom, moving the desk from one side to the other and putting the old computer away in the closet. I'll have to reorganize the closet sometime soon, but I'm at a loss for how to fix the mess. I'll probably have to buy some shelves. There's more room now, and all the chairs face the television now, so there's a better focus.
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