palace of winds

Dear snow:

WTF?! Knock it off.

Yours,
Rachel-who’s-sick-of-winter.

I don’t know if it’s giving up pop (and so the extra midday caffeine) or not having any television this week to keep me up (well, any programmed television; I’ve watched an episode of Ballykissangel the last few nights, but had the tv off by 8:30), but I’ve been in bed by 9, lights-out by 9:30, the past two nights. I’ve been too exhausted for anything else, but I wake refreshed, awake, shortly before 6.

I spent all of last night dreaming I was Neo in the Matrix. There were only a few of us humans left, and we were trying to get to the center of the machines’ operation to save humanity. It was insanely treacherous, dangerous, the way impossible and full of traitors and gunfire. My dream self spent the night honestly not knowing whether or not I’d live through it.