Mar. 20th, 2006

rejectomorph: (franz_marc_foxes)
Clouds came and consumed the stars. The sun, pre-devoured, will not show, but the palest consumed light escaping the rumpled overcast woke the jays and crows, who began to screech and caw even before the frogs had fallen silent. Quickening breezes now sway the tops of pines, but the wind must be stronger in the canyons. I hear the distant, sustained howl of the forest, like a turbid river that is eating its rocky bed. I'm sure there will be rain, and hail perhaps. I will enjoy it. Happy Vernal Equinox!


For those not cheered by their weather, behold a big page o' bears! (Have insulin handy. Some of them are that sweet.) Three other pages follow, which I haven't opened, as the first (filled with .gif's) took so long to load. I assume they are more of the same.


I must get to sleep so I can wake early enough to be sufficiently tired to go to sleep still earlier Tuesday morning so I can be sufficiently rested that afternoon to endure going to the dentist and letting him jab huge needles into my gums and stick a jackhammer in my mouth to demolish the remains of my broken molar. That will be happening roughly 34 hours hence.

Sleep

Mar. 20th, 2006 07:36 pm
rejectomorph: (franz_marc_foxes)
I missed the hailstorm, sleeping right through it. It must have been impressive, as I woke to find most of the lawn still white. Maybe I was having a dream my subconscious self didn't want to leave. If so, I have no memory of it. My waking self is sometimes annoyed at my sleeping self. I have a sneaking suspicion that he has a more enjoyable life than I have. I also suspect that he resents me, because I not only put off sleep for too long each day, but I also drag him away from his world when I wake. Some of his awareness and will must remain in my head at the moment of waking, because my first thought each day is usually Oh, not this again! Then he tries to drag me back into the world of dreams, and I must struggle to escape into reality. The ingrate! If I didn't get up and do all that eating and bathing and such, we'd both soon be dead. And where does he think he gets the raw material for all those dreams if not from the experiences and sensory impressions I gather from the world during my waking hours? How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless subconscious!

Anyway, tonight we're back to commonplace drizzle. Music to balance mom's checkbook by. No wonder my subconscious self is resentful!

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