Day 30: My sleeping routine IS messed up

Oh my gosh. Really, Oh. my. god. Bimbotic, I just realized that 2 seconds ago, but the severity of the issue baffles me. I feel tired at around six in the evening, fall asleep, and wake up at one in the morning. The frightening thing is that I'm remarkably awake once I have. I'm assuming this happens because I've been so used to sleeping immediately after classes during weekdays, then waking up to finish up my readings/assignments. To have that routine spill over to my weekends is not a pretty thing. Wow... I'm just... wow.

I'm sorry, I've never been so lost for words but I really dislike the notion of being unable to sleep the way I want to, the way I need to. Though I really want to make up for lost time by not sleeping all the way until Sunday night, I know that this act itself will throw my biological slumbering clock way, way off.

...

I take it back, I'm not refreshed after that nap... Sleep.

And to top it all off, I had the most peculiar dream. Sadly, I can only replay the last 5 minutes of that film reel, though real-time, it felt more like half an hour. I was back home in Malaysia, with my childhood friend, preparing to go out to a convention/ high school (I know, it's pretty damn confusing as I'm typing this out). As I walk out, there's this couple with 3 children standing at my lawn. I know these people, for... some reason. Bouncing children, smiling parents, and a deranged serial-killer dressed up as a clown parked right beyond the white, spear-topped fence. I remember screaming, and saying something like "OMG -- It's -----." Well, whatever a person says when they see a serial-kiler, dressed as a clown, driving an ice cream truck. No jingle, though. That's the disappointment.

I receive a call at my phone then. Now, I haven't talked to this individual in reality for a while, but I'm pretty sure she was the one talking. Let's just call her CY for now. She called, and asked me if I was coming to the conference, everyone's waiting, and I'm already almost two hours late... Sense of time in dreams are pretty much f@#$ed up. I tried to explain to her, by yelling, that my entire family and I were about to be killed gruesomely by this circus clown, who's still outside by the way (I even remember his facial expression - sorta like... saddened that his employer fired him just because he couldn't make balloon animals fast enough. Yeah that would be it). And CY at the other end of the line was laughing her ass off, as if I'm making all this up, and no matter how hard I try to convince her, she just laughed even louder.

Furious, I hung up and looked outside. The clown's gone, but so was the husband of the couple. The children were still bouncy, like spacehoppers, and the wife, for who knows what reason, was looking rather bedraggled with her hair spraying in all directions, tattered business attire, looking up at the sky and saying something which I think to be "Finally--" Odd.

I got a call right after that and again, the persona was pretty damn specific. I shall call him JG. I bet most of you by now can guess they're all acronyms of the real names. Anyway, he called right when I was about to go out again, my feet already on my lawn, and told me that it's all right that I wasn't there since they've already found replacements for the board I was supposed to decorate and that the fair was already over anyway.

It gets weirder from here on.

I was on the phone with him, when I heard bombs dropping at the other end of the line. No wailing Stukas though. Again, I'm disappointed. And the funny thing is that the dream's pretty consistent at this because when I looked up the sky, a single F-16 flew past and dropped small grey spheres with a glowing greenish tint. Something like those futuristic cameras one would see in movies, only that these things have ammo. Not... that I saw bullets flying out from their direction, but I know this because I ran back into my house and shut all the doors, drew the curtains and took an occasional peek at the mini sphere hovering at the spot I just retreated from.

I went into my parents room and urged them to lie low, but my mum, being the skeptic and the mischievous one, exited a secret door which I knew not of and appeared at the other end of the window. I whispered heavily to her to come back in, and she did. This small episode was odd because if the sphere could shoot, I'm pretty sure it would've shot my mum. That was so painful to type, because I'm not wishing for that to happen. But logically, one would question this huge blunder by the film director.

The next image I saw would've been the strangest...

My university acquaintance, riding a tricycle down the street in front of my house, waving at me with a confused expression, though she seemed pretty calm enough amid the fiasco. I waved back.

Then I woke up. And it was 1.30am. Wuthering Heights is still lying on my table. I have to finish it tonight.