Oh my word.
I haven't slept well the past few nights. And when I don't sleep well, I usually have a vivid dream life. Last night was no exception. It had something to do with fire and church and the building being rented out to James Robison and his crew. They brought in Roman columns and race cars that they put on display to show how they truly live.
Oh, and to protect the race cars from the fire and the torrential rain outside. And the Martians. That was important, too.
In the meantime I was trying to calm down the ex-band leader because the band had done a couple of his favorite songs and done them poorly. For some reason it was my job to both guide and calm, but to beat feet out of there before the big guns came in. I obliged, but then I had to fight my way through the crowds trying to come in as I was going out. And then there was the torrential rain to deal with as I tried to get to my car.
I was spared the viewing of what my mind considers to be a Martian. I'm sure I'll be privy to that another day.
So, the night before last I apparently couldn't sleep and came downstairs to write pithy words of wisdom for the world to read and exclaim over. However, thank goodness, I didn't finish and publish said words. Because I was under the influence of my friend, Ambien, and the words? While they were on the page, they did not make much sense in the light of day.
This scares me for two reasons: 1) My meanderings sounded not unlike I was under the influence of more than just my friend Ambien, but perhaps a fifth or three of my favorite tequila product, and that I had consumed the worm at the bottom of each and every bottle, and 2) I haven't been to sleep tonight, it's after midnight, and I am under the influence of my friend Ambien again - although she isn't doing diddly in the way of making me sleepy and wafting me away to Slumberland. If I wrote incoherent nonsense in a previously similar life, might I not do the same again?
In addition, I'm kind of scared to go to bed because I really don't want to have those stupid dreams again.
I mean, I don't speak Martian. What if they need the facilities and I can't tell them how to get there? Will I end up wetting the bed?
It's a legitimate concern.