And you'll ask yourself, where is my mind?
Seriously. It's gone. My mind, that is. Or was. Or whatever.
Last night I dreamt that I poisoned myself. Not a suicide dream - there was actually some purpose or reason that I had to poison myself, Romeo and Juliet style. Can't remember why, but it all made sense in the dream. Then, in another dream, I was in a play about pirates and policemen. My bit was to storm on stage wearing an eye patch, bang my tin mug on the table and storm off again. I was awesome. You would have cheered and clapped for me.
So, Pixies, where is my mind?
Not on this blog yesterday, obviously, or there would've been a 14 April 2010 post here. There's not. And this is because I could not think in a straight line (or even a curved line. Or dotted line), simply because I had not had enough sleep.
This was not because of bizarre dreams (although there were some), but because I knew I had to get up early to be dressed and ready to leave for a business networking breakfast that started at 7am. When I know I have to get up early, my brain wakes me up every 10 minutes just to make sure that I don't oversleep. Which I didn't. In fact, I just plain didn't sleep, nevermind oversleep.
But, I am back today, lucky you, in all my magic randonmess to tell you about my crazy poisoning dreams and leave you with these interesting thoughts from the inimitable Edward Monkton:
