After almost a week of getting up a lot earlier than I would on a normal basis–most of the time I’m up about five to five-thirty AM, but of late I’ve been getting up at four, four-thirty–I was able to sleep more or less soundly. Sure, I woke up a few times, but I went right back to sleep in all cases. This was accomplished with chemical means, a light application of some sleep medication, but at this point I needed the rest, so chemicals be damned.
All is good for the moment. I don’t have a drug hangover, which are worse than being hung over in a normal fashion because you can fight through those with the proper application of food and liquids. These sleep med hangovers leave you feeling worn out and disoriented, and make it almost impossible to get through the day.
I have enough issues getting through a day without that hovering about in my head.
The strangest thing, however, were my dreams. With the deep sleep came the deep REM submersion, and they were unusual, to say the least. It seemed as if I was stuck with a group of people who may or may have not possessed superpowers. I kept hearing that they did, and I kept meeting up with strangely dressed women in places like an office building that was under construction, or the top of a shopping high rise, or even the top of a bridge. There were guys there, too, but I never seemed to have contact with them: just with the ladies.
My role in all this was never explained. I may have been able to do things, I don’t know. I never saw myself doing anything, but I never figured out how I got to all these high-up, Highlanderish meetings. It always seems as if I was just there. And then they’d appear, and we’d talk, and . . . that’s it: meeting adjourned.
The end was the most puzzling. I was staying in a nice place, and I was on my way up to crash for the day when I found two large knifes on the stairs. When I got inside the apartment, I found my normal bed was gone, and in its place were–bunk beds? They’d been built there, too, because there was a drop cloth on the floor covered with sawdust.
Oh, and there were people with me, who hadn’t been with me before. Well, one of them, a cute brunette, had followed me up the stairs. Where the hell the rest of those losers came from I have no idea.
Strange things, I know. It’s not like I’ve had my mind on superhero stuff, but there are some things that I’ve been bouncing around in my head of late related to stories I’ve been developing, but nothing that I’d decided to put down in the computer yet. It’s just, you know, thoughts.
I will write this weekend. I need something to do that doesn’t involve spending a lot of money, and sitting at the hotel writing is pretty much the ticket. I know what I want to write.
Will there be supergirls?
More like a super pain in the butt . . .