I've discovered the immeasurable pleasures of taking a nap at lunchtime. Under my ponderosa I'll pull my hood tight against my face and eventually fall asleep. Of course it's a little fitful because I am mindful of the limited lunchtime allotted to me and how I don't want to be late.
This is eating into my reading but I always feel so much better in my head that I really don't mind. Eventually I'll get around to reading at lunchtime again. I just need to be patient.
Currently I'm reading Feersum Endjinn by Iain M. Banks.
Taken in any other context is an exercise for fools and they do so at their own peril.
Eventually I returned to sleep, even if it was fitful slumber. When my eyes opened in the dreaming I was at my laptop staring at the familiar black screen of EditPlus where I compose these atrocities. I looked over the flatscreen, my eyes adjusted to the shadows and I saw that I was no longer in Colorado Springs. Back home. Even worse, back home in 2001 in New Jersey.
My parents were leaving my bedroom, which happens to be catty-corner to the den, and heading back upstairs. My mother's face was like a ghost when she looked in and told me "Go to bed" using the diminuitive of my waking life first name.
"No."
My father stopped in his tracks, stormed into the den and confronted me. He berated me over talking back to my mother, about respect and other useless bullshit. I looked at him and told him to get the fuck out of my face before I call the police on him. When he went to bring down his fist on my skull I grabbed it, slammed it against the desk revealing a smoking pipe that reeked of pot which fell to the floor.
"Again. Get out before I call the police."
The rest of the dream was uneventful and I remember my computer screen being a bright, featureless celestial blue.
