katiefoolery: (Sleep now)
[personal profile] katiefoolery
It occurs to me that this journal is in serious danger of becoming a log of vlogs. Or several logs of vlogs, which could be stacked together to make a nice, toasty vlog fire. I really wouldn't mind one of those right now, given how it's all Winter-like and cold around here. Never mind the fact that I'm sitting here in short sleeves - you should be paying more attention to the warm coat draped over the back of my chair. It is COLD out there.

But considerably warmer inside.

Anyway, in order to avoid the log of vlogness, I shall break it up by talking about my dream of bizarreness. Because everyone loves to read about other people's dreams, right?

But seriously, this one was truly bizarre. And it kept company with other bizarre dreams, yet apparently out-bizarred them all, because it's the only one I remember. This is evidently what happens to my head when I a) work far too hard, b) don't get more than about six hours' sleep on weeknights, and, c) fall asleep out of desperation at ten o' clock on Friday night.


I was an Assyrian living in India. I... don't even know why. Why an Assyrian? Why India? Is there some quasi-historical cultural commentary going on in my head that I don't know about? Anyway, things weren't exactly going swimmingly and my family was attempting to flee, via the intermediary of this guy who was providing us with false papers. We showed up all innocent-like, encountered this incredibly sleazy and untrustworthy-looking guy... who then SAVED OUR LIVES by lying about who we were in some script-based language I didn't understand.

Also, there was grain. Possibly in sacks.

And then my friend from China turned up. She was a princess or an empress-in-training or whatever and a thousand people followed her around. Literally. She turned up in this great procession of people in red and I could barely work out where she was amongst them all. And on top of this, her mother had died recently and her scarlet-draped coffin had become part of the procession, complete with mourners.

So, as if a thousand-strong cohort of Chinese processioners wasn't helpful enough to an Assyrian girl trying to lie low in India, I get told off by my friend as well. "Why are you running away?" was the gist of it.

Well, I can answer this question and I'll borrow that high-horse while I'm at it. "Because my friend and his family were killed last week," I explained, from said equine of great height. "And he was an Assyrian, too."


I woke up from that at about 4am, wondering what on earth was going on with my brain.

Two questions immediately occur to me, though. Firstly, wtf? Secondly, if I have a friend who just happens to be a Chinese empress-in-training, why isn't she helping me and my family to escape?
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April 2011

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