thefutureandthepast

Oh, I try so, SO hard to remember my dreams, but my body seems intent on deleting the files. I woke up hot, when the heat kicked on at seven a.m., and fell back asleep tense, in fits, with allergies stuffing up my head. My bed was too soft, too big, my blankets too many, my pillow to stuffed. The room was too large, too hot. My stomach grumbled like an approaching thunderstorm. I wondered, in my sleep, what was wrong with it. What was wrong with me? WAS there anything wrong with me? If not now, would there be soon? It seems to be my general sentiment upon waking.

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