Doing much better except for very weird dreams

I'm doing a lot better now than I was in my previous post. Part of it was PMS, part was readjusting, part was boredom. Anyway, I'm doing better now that the hormones are somewhat tamer.

I actually skipped my first class today by dint of setting my alarm for pm, not am (that, and I woke up from a weird dream around 5am and could go back to sleep right away), and consequently I slept until 9:30. Class started at nine. So I used the time to eat a decent breakfast and check out the study abroad office (Side note for the parents-- I found an art school in Ireland and one of its specialties is Engligh Literature. You also take Celtic studies, so the lit has a heavy emphasis on James Joyce... sounds really cool...). I ran errands (mostly mailing a few things, catching up on email correspondence, and getting goggles for my chem lab) until my great, big 12pm-5pm sprint of classes: chem lecture at 12 (which, sadly, is a little pointless, just because the professor goes off on many, many tangents, but it's still imperitive that we go) choir at 1pm (testing today went well. Second altos rock!), and chem lab from 2pm until 5pm (although I was done by four). Lab was cool. My partner is a guy named Steve, who is a behavioral neurology major (I very quietly answered that I'm an English and music student. Thankfully, he thought it was cool). We get on well, and a lab atmosphere is cool-- very active and still informative (shut up, all my friends who are science majors and already know this; I'm new on the scene). I liked it-- it made the two hours fly by.

Then at 6 I had a meeting with the Tijuana folks, and we're progressing nicely in terms of who's going where and talking about fundraising. I'm getting more and more excited for the trip as I keep preparing for it. I also sat down with Jacob, one of the PM's of social justice, because I proposed starting a knitting circle to make hats and scarves for the homeless to hand out at the weekly CAST and Lighthouse trips. So I get to teach many of my peers to knit on Wednesdays for ninety minutes at a whack. Sounds good to me!

I just got back from the library (reading sociology, doncha know) and then I went up to see Casey and James for a while. I'm ready to call it a night.

But before I go, another aside about the weird dream I had this morning-- I've been having odd dreams lately. In one of them a friend of mine accidentally hit me in the head with a basketball, giving me a concussion and knocking me out. In keeping with the whole “don’t let them fall asleep” rule, he kept waking me up, but he had places to go, too. So most of the dream he’s dragging me around “Weekend at Bernie’s” style, so I’m propped up in the corner of the lab, or sitting on the sidelines of the turf field, or in a desk in the back of the class, and periodically he would trot over to nudge me awake. At some bizarre point in the dream I stopped responding, and he just kept dragging me around until the end of the day when he put me in a chair in his room and crawled into bed. It was so absurd that none of this seemed out of place (you know how dreams just have a logic where the abnormal is just commonplace? Like that). That was last night.

A few nights ago I had another one where I went down the hallway to talk to my friend, Maggie, only to find that she had died. When I looked to see what happened to her, I realized that the cause of death was ligature strangulation (that was the exact phrase that kept being repeated. Not strangled or choked to death, “ligature strangulation.” Too much Law and Order, maybe?). But for some reason in dream logic, ligature strangulation was a natural way to die, like heart failure or an aneurism. So I, rather traumatized at finding my friend this way, called my mother (again, dream logic) who was the first to assure me that ligature strangulation was a common way to expire naturally. So then I started looking for help in the adjacent rooms. The first door I opened, everyone inside was dead. Same with the next one. I went up and down the hall to find everyone dead in their rooms. But the weird thing was that only Maggie’s death was traumatizing me; with everyone else, seeing them dead felt like seeing that the room was empty, or that the person was asleep, and that I should go somewhere else to find help. Like, “Oh, they’re dead, next room.” I woke up absolutely soaked in sweat and didn’t go back to sleep. This was Saturday night/Sunday morning. Bizzare.