You'd never think I could write a full post about how tired I am. But seriously I could.
I dream so much. Always have.
Last night I dreamt I walked all over the City(I dream about the City often). I was looking for a piece of stolen furniture. I'll have to look that one up to analyze, because it was so surreal.
It was an antique Chinese alter table. Now who stole it, I'm not sure...but it took my whole dream to find it. With the help of this sweet Japanese girl, we found the piece in an out of the way antique shop between 39th & 40th ave.
Now if you know the City that's way out in the sunset district. The likelihood of an antique store way out there is a little unlikely.
After I found it, the rest of the dream was waiting on my father to show up to retrieve the piece of furniture. He needed directions, and here is where the dream turned into a nightmare.
I couldn't remember his phone number(a common element in my dreams) and he didn't understand my directions...which is weird because the man had the most unbelievable sense of direction. Thankfully I got that trait from him.
The more I tried to give him directions the angrier he got, hence the more frustrated I got...and scared. He rarely ever became truly angry in real life.
I felt horrible.
I woke up sooo tired and achey. Like I'd walked all night...and I did...in my dream.
Sometimes I wish I could just have a nice sex dream...but those are few and far between, darn it.
At least if I woke up tired from a great sex dream I'd feel like I accomplished something.
Instead I'm searching for fucking furniture.