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2008-11-15 8:27 a.m. After they talk, each one has to push the button that calls their respective nurse to bring them heart medicines and painkillers to calm them down and keep them from having more heart attacks. I can't control what happens with them. I'm ok with that. What I'm not ok with is that my sleep is plagued by distracting dreams–strange, silent surrealist art movies that I appreciate but don't understand. I haven't found out how to control my sleep-cinema. My subconscious is ungovernable. My mind is particularly cloudy this morning. It dances in rhymes. It's telling me that I should have a fortress. It should have at least one buttress. And a mattress. [And a temptress. Or, perhaps an actress? I could have just one of the two, since one often fulfills the requirements of the other.] PREVIOUS ENTRY - NEXT ENTRY |