If you're not knitting, the terrorists win

(My mostly on-topic ramblings about knitting. And life in general. My life in specific.)

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Location: Indiana, United States

I'm a middle aged mother of 2 grown children and wife to a man who doesn't seem to mind my almost heroin-like yarn addiction. I spend my time writing, knitting, and generally stressing out.

Sunday, March 13, 2016

Ugh! Lost An Hour!

Daylight Savings Time. Not sure why that's a thing still. But it just cost me an hour of sleep.

Could I have gone to bed earlier? Maybe. But you know I have trouble getting to sleep anyway. Plus, I have had some really weird-ass dreams lately. Like last night, I dreamed of crocodiles. Listen:

I started out on some sort of journey, but after a while I reached a section of the highway that was treacherous. It was a mountain road--right up against the mountain on one side and no guardrail to block the steep drop on the other side. The downward grade was super steep, too. I was afraid to drive it.

But then, someone else stepped in and offered to drive it. Inexplicably, I agreed to let them. Of course, they drove so fast and so recklessly that I was terrified all the way down the side of the mountain. However, we made it safely and at the bottom of the mountain I got out of the car onto the side of a river bank.

That's when I noticed the river was full of crocodiles. Big, mean-looking crocodiles everywhere. (I thought to myself, "Hm. This is different. It's usually snakes.") And I realized I was lost. I looked back up at the road I had come down and it was gone. There was only the mountain. I tried to study the terrain for a way back up, but couldn't find any prospective routes.

But then, I realized I did know the way home. All I had to do was cross the river and climb up the other side to get to the road that would lead home. Of course, there were about a billion crocs in the water between me and the way home.  But there was a sandbar in the middle of the river. So I reasoned that I could possibly avoid the crocs by running across that sandbar.

And, since this was a stressful dream, when I reached the end of the sandbar, I realized it didn't stretch all the way to the other shore. And it was too far to jump to shore. But running across the sandbar had attracted the nearby crocs, so I couldn't stop and I couldn't go back. I just leaped.

Like, leaped.
And, since this was a stressful dream, I didn't make it. I went into the water, off balance, and went under. I actually saw a somewhat surprised looking croc.
I quickly scrambled up out of the water, onto the shore and began the most desperate scramble up the side of the mountain.

I woke up at some point prior to reaching the top. I was so terrified and sweaty, I felt like I had actually fallen into a crocodile river. But I was left with a lingering sense of unease that lasted all day.

So maybe I wasn't just tired because of losing an hour.

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