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Monster in a shirt.

Trouble waking up: alarm goes off, get up, turn off alarm, fall back into bed. Get up after half an hour, check the clock, go back to bed. Unable to move, I'm forced to lucidly dream a phone ringing and that catapults me out of bed.

Before that, in the fugue, I dreamt I worked in a grocery store as a cashier, forced to scan an endless supply of barcoded groceries for old people with demands. This seems painfully symbolic and I wish my subconscious had something approaching tact, but no. No: my subconscious likes to smack me over the head with a Dictionary of Symbols whenever possible.

But, fuck that noise. It's sunny, I'm meeting the girls for lunch during my workday downtown, and then I'm coming home to do the dishes and write a story. Damn it.

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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on March 12, 2007 9:44 AM.

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