The line between my sleeping life and waking life is not as clearly delineated as I would wish it to be – which is to say that, among other things, my dreams are of work and are entirely too vivid. Not vivid in the sense of colour-drenched watercolours, like some dreams are, but vivid in that they are perfectly plausible extensions of my waking life.

A little too plausible; I find myself carrying out actions I was assigned in real life and by now you know where this is going. Need to fill out that time sheet? Dream-me did it in like, five dream minutes. Need to get food colouring for the epic sugar cookie day? Dream-me is giving you a thumbs up.

And while this sort of thing might make charming blog fodder and lead to pithy hipster discussions (“It’s as if part of yourself wants to start fulfilling what only you can give yourself.”), in the throat-clearing real world it would only net me really suspicious side glares, at best.


If I had more money, I’d spend it well. I would not spend it on idiotic things like bling and cars. I’d travel. More money? I’d buy a cheap, functional apartment outright so I’d never have to go through the terror of making rent. Yet more money? Well, I’d start an orphanage.

The most money possible? Health insurance.


Havana sleeps on the pillow beside my own, which is either sweet and comforting or completely unsanitary, depending on your proclivities. Sometimes at night when dreaming or nightmaring my hand falls on her and she purrs. Mostly it wakes me up but sometimes it just becomes integrated in my dreams, which is why this morning I awoke with a start from a dream about an Iphone that was licking my hand.