My house is a bloody mess. The chances are less than zero I'll be cleaning it today. It's a crash day for me. After 8 days of bulling through that horrendous work rotation, I slept for 11 hours and I'll be fighting the grog from too much sleep all day. I don't acheive consciousness levels on a good day for at least a couple of hours after I wake up. Today I'll probably never attain full altitude. The aches and pains from the exhaustion I ignored for a week, because I had no choice, finally manifests when I have time off. Especially since I'm actually looking at whole week of free time. And I'm still trying to shake off the lingering effects of my crazy dreams.
I always dream hard after I've been sleep deprived. Sometimes they remain more vivid, but I don't remember them much today. It's a more of sense of unease in my subconscious that isn't quite resolved. The only scece is remember well is the last one before I woke up. I had a basket of laundry and I was walking up a empty highway. There were black helicopters buzzing me, coming in low right over my head. For some reason, I went into a brick apartment house, entering a second floor apartment with a door that opened just wide enough to let me get in. There were supposed to stairs to let me get outside again, but instead I found a high balcony. When I went back inside the apartment, the owner was there. He was Asian. I didn't know him but he knew me. He told me to go back out the other door but this time it didn't open wide enough to let me out. He said that it was supposed to be that way because of the bulging brick wall that was squeezing the door frame. At that point I woke up with the sense that I had missed something important.
Who knows what it all means? I certainly don't, but the reality is I'm moving slow and I've neglected all my blogs in the last couple of days so I expect I'll be plugging away here in front of the screen until midnight or so trying to catch up on the news. I'll be back later with a couple of interesting developments on the drug war.