davidgillon: A pair of crutches, hanging from coat hooks, reflected in a mirror (Default)

AKA I came down with another inner ear bug over the weekend. Fairly mild, I'm just very slightly dizzy when I move around, but annoying as I've a few errands I want to run now there's hints of spring in the weather and there's no way I could safely drive. I think I've had one bug or another more than I've been bug free this year, and that may well be true as far back as last September, which is getting boring.

So I mostly spent Monday dozing in bed, which seems to have helped, and there was an interesting sequential dream to keep me amused. 'Sequential' as I woke up several times during it, but the dream picked up once I'd dozed off again.

Slightly futuristic setting, the characters were the high command of Singapore's space navy (?!) until an attack with a WMD took out the top man, at which point his deputy has to take over, said deputy being something of a joke and alleged former crook. Unfortunately for the bad guys he's also Bruce Willis. So cue thorough reprisals, both individually against those who plotted the attack and collectively against them as a nation - I never did work out who the bad guys were, but my subconscious is saying South American. Some of the reprisals were slightly Cthulhu-esque, probably a result of the Laundry Files re-read I've been doing. It's interesting the places my dream-director chooses to go.

Hopefully I'll be over this buf soon, but if not I'll settle for a few good dreams.

davidgillon: A pair of crutches, hanging from coat hooks, reflected in a mirror (Default)
The multiply-transatlantic parcel finally arrived this morning, the alarums and excursions around it claiming to be delivered last week were due to it being held up with a customs fee - VAT to pay - which I finally got a card telling me needed paying on Tuesday.  I wouldn't have minded the VAT too much if the Royal Mail's handling fee hadn't practically doubled it.

I may have been slighty more wound up about it than I realised as I'd no sooner glanced through the contents and confirmed everything was there* than my body decided I was going to sleep. Now. By my reckoning I'd already had 6 to 7 hours, and my body decided to double that.**

So it's 8PM and I just had breakfast....

I haven't been sleeping particularly well since early January when I came down with that blasted cold, I seem to have been on more of a 30 hour, or 36 hour, cycle than a 24, which keeps you functional, but in a state of permanently too knackered to do anything constructive, not to mention awake at awkward times of the day and it looks like it may finally have caught up with me. Hopefully I can get back to something resembling normalcy now.

* Except for the stuff that went permanently out of stock in the near year it took the main item to finally be published,

** Complete with two*** dreams about starting a PhD back at Lancaster and having a pleasant conversation with the fiercest of my old lecturers. There are also vague memories of being signed up as an officer for World War Three (and Case Nightmare Green from the Laundry Files), but that's down to the reading I've been doing. All of them surprisingly domestic, rather than kinetic.

*** Or one dream, interrupted, as I woke up in the middle of it, checked the time and picked up the narrative again when I fell back to sleep.


 

 


davidgillon: A pair of crutches, hanging from coat hooks, reflected in a mirror (Default)
 .... The mini-dream about Springwatch* was rather inappropriate!

The one about starting university and alien encounters was interesting, if fairly psychologically obvious, but adding extra anxiety with the 'hey, I'm buying a coke and a mars bar and suddenly I can't find any change and the guy at the till is calling me an idiot' was a bit excessive.

And did you go third person for a while there? I don't think the bit highlighting the abilities of the six adopted sisters was first.

* A UK nature show that runs in, oddly enough, the Spring.

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davidgillon: A pair of crutches, hanging from coat hooks, reflected in a mirror (Default)
David Gillon

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