Something ... More

I caught Butterfly tonight, and loved every minute of it. I walked home in a daze, and after taking off my contact lenses, I felt completely drained, and wanted to just curl up in bed and make like Rip Van Winkle. But I was too, too restless.

So I took a long and languorous hot shower (lucky thing I don't have to pay for utilities), letting the water blast me from above and run over my ears, make-believing I was underwater, and balanced in the tree position for a count of sixty hippopotamuses in the shower stall.

Then I nuked a sachet of instant porridge (the Sultanas, Apple and Honey flavor really rocks) and consumed every last grain of it as I continued reading Gulliver's Travels. But I'm still ... restless.

So here I am, bone-tired and restless - and, probably, increasingly melancholic.

Or maybe it's not melancholia but something else. ... I can't be in mourning, can I?

*sigh*

I have to snap out of this and finish the damn Gulliver's Travels so I can move on to the rest of my texts (and secondary reading), then start on my Psycholinguistic readings.

I hate final exams.

:::

For the first time since I hung my pentagram dream-catcher by my bed, I had a horrible dream last night. It wasn't a nightmare, but it was pretty upsetting.

I can't piece it together now, except that it had something to do with punishment and brainwashing. I remember just the bit before I woke up. It was the same dark, dreary, and vaguely threatening room that my entire dream took place in, and I was waiting for Jen who was in the bathroom. Having waited a long time, I finally called her name. There was no reply, so I pushed the door open, and found the bathroom empty.

It hit me there and then that I was all alone, and I whispered, "Last life in the universe" just as I blinked into consciousness.