"you know what conscious Jeremy? I haven't screwed with you in a while. I think I will, it is after all April 1st."
Then began laughing maniacally as the camera pulled back and then hard cut to me laying in bed, the sheets tossed around me, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.
Last night my subconscious composed a truly evil, and yet mythically brilliant, series of nightmarish doubts and fears. IVF had failed miserably again, and (again) with no explanation. Mo and I spiraled into depression. Hope died of cancer. Faith crumbled into the sea.
All that stuff. Biblical really. I'm not even mad at my subconscious now that I am awake and the nasty thoughts are fading and being replaced by (reborn) hope. I'm just impressed that it could so effectively and efficiently shred through positive (and yet realistic) outlook on this round. Seriously, if I could give my subconscious an award, he totally deserves it.
I didn't get much sleep though. That's annoying. I'm craving orange soda too. Not sure what that is about.
I'm taking the day off work to go to the Medieval Faire in Norman. Sunlight, Swords, and people dressed in funny outfits!
http://www.medievalfair.org/
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