So, I'm home, which means I'm not sitting at my computer NEARLY as much as I have been, oh, the last three weeks or so. It's rather nice. I am, however, watching oodles more TV, including numerous season finales of shows I haven't watched all season--and some have the nerve to be in TWO PARTS, meaning I have to watch NEXT week, too, if I want to know how everything turns out (I'm looking at you, CSI: Miami). I also saw 16 Blocks last night, which I found to be remarkably well done. Lots of edge-of-your-seat action, but some really surprising plot twists, as well. It was at the cheap theater, so look for it at a Lackluster Video near you shortly.
Anyhow, I've been having some really, really weird dreams this week. And maybe it's because I'm sleeping later, or longer (but not really--I get to bed about 3, 3:30, and am up by 9:30 or 10 each day), or just that I'm surrounded by all these relics from my past that trigger recollections of people and experiences long gone, but I'm remembering them vividly, and they are strange. I suppose the only thing worse than talking about dreams at all is talking about them with a complete and utter lack of detail, but something about the disconnect between image and language keeps me from even attempting to describe them. Suffice to say that much as I love being home, I think I'll sleep more soundly once I'm back in Chicago.
Though my apartment never gets as dark as my room here does at night. Ahh, light pollution.