The other night, though, I didn't wake up at all until 11:00, with the screaming of my alarm clock. And I was really confused. For a good minute, I just sat on my bed, light pouring in through the window shades and my alarm clock still blaring (luckily, the roommates weren't there), trying to figure out where I was (I didn't recognize my own bedroom? Yeah, I don't know, either) and what was going on. It was sketch, dood.
Then, last night, I dreamt that I was in an airport, about to go to Ireland, and I was totally positive that the plane was going to crash and we were all going to die*. I was kind of freaking out. I even thought about tossing away my plane ticket and hopping a boat to Europe. After a little while of just worrying and worrying and panicking and panicking, I finally just asked this dude who worked at the airport how common plane crashes were, hoping that he'd say something about them never ever happening ever. Well, that wasn't what happened. Nope, he was all like, "yeah, actually, we had one yesterday. Their bodies are still on the runway! lol!" And I was like, "what the fuck, dream?!"
*Actually, it was my second, "oh holy shit the plane to Ireland is totally gonna blow up or something and I'm gonna die," dream in a month. It's awkward.