...
I slept all yesterday afternoon and then went to bed early last night. So I got up and at 'em before six this morning. I had my pills. I had three cups of coffee thick enough to stand up a spoon. I had breakfast. I posted some things here. I caught up with the world. I went and listened to some bloke about a grounding meditation for the flighty and distracted. I fell dead asleep.
Workmen were dismantling my house. I got up to see about it, kick some ass and take some names. I couldn't find anybody. I figured out it was because I was only dreaming I'd gotten up. So I got up. I started ripping loose wall papers off walls where there is no wallpaper. Am I still asleep? Yes. Yes I damn am. Okay. I'll get up. Totally tangled in my comforter and I can't get me out for shit. Squirming makes it worse. Peel that sucker off with your hands, nines. Okay. I'm up. I'm checking my email. Or am I? Nope. I'm still in bed. Try again. Harder still to get untangled. I "got up" about ten more times, until my dream started to be all about scheming how to actually wake up from all these pretend ones. I thought I might try getting on the telephone, but couldn't think who to call. I decided that I'd know I'd really gotten up when I had no trouble getting loose of my comforter. I made a few more false starts. I'd check each time by opening my left eye. If I was still horizontal when I'd thought I was upright, that was the sign of temporary defeat. I wasn't going to lose this battle....
And I didn't. Finally.
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