These last several weeks have seen many more dreams in the wake of bad sleep. It's disrupted sleep, disjointed paper machete clapped together by some mad 4 year old when wakefulness shakes my shoulder. Sleep has become either a better comfort than the living world, or a realm I'm having more and more trouble getting out of.

I ache in the mornings, deep and dull, all-over, as if I've been fighting all night long. I stretch enough after exercising, so I don't have an explanation.

They say your sleep and dreams vaguely reflect what's going on inside you, whether it's psychologists who say it's just information processing or the mystics who look to the Astral Plane. And in either case, they're right: I feel extremely conflicted in general. Somehow telling yourself that you should be happy just doesn't work out. I've never been one for extended happy feelings, but it seems appropriate when you have everything in order, when you're simply waiting and biding your time with small projects.

Like I've said before, though, I don't stay satisfied. I have a psychological condition where feeling 'on-edge' and worrying come with the territory. I can control it to a degree, but sometimes I like it; it makes me feel like I'm more in control when I worry. Same way with finding reasons (however plausible) to feel sad or disappointed: sometimes I just enjoy feeling like that. And even though it's likely a physical or chemical abnormality, those are things that partly define who I am, however counter-productive or needless or whatever they are.

I'll write later on about the Harry Potter Geek Extravaganza I had with The Captain and his friends yesterday.

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