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This morning
Apr. 21st, 2009 04:55 pmThis morning, I woke up.
This was not a good thing.
I'd slept well, had an odd and sad little dream - something about getting involved with a mystic dagger that had to destroy a cursed sword (in modern times) and fight it's cursed-by-immortality-of-a-sort owner and his wife along the way. I'd fought a manifestation of the sword itself, which healed itself constantly until it's owner arrived to fight himself. At first he was fine with the sword being destroyed, and tried to help. After several attempts - some of which included stretching the sword and nearly disassembling it and all sorts of ridiculous cartoonish things, like tying it to two vehicles moving in opposite directions - his wife showed up and said he shouldn't be doing that, they quite liked this immortality of a sort, so get rid of this guy, hmm? He sighed, said something like "Yes, dear," and looked at me and shrugged and the sword came back together again for the xteenth time.
Friggin' cursed swords.
Anyway, I woke up as sore as if I'd moved every piece of furniture in the house by myself across a football field and back and with enough eye-boogers to crust my left eye shut until I pried the stuff off. Just bad, bad morning.
This was not a good thing.
I'd slept well, had an odd and sad little dream - something about getting involved with a mystic dagger that had to destroy a cursed sword (in modern times) and fight it's cursed-by-immortality-of-a-sort owner and his wife along the way. I'd fought a manifestation of the sword itself, which healed itself constantly until it's owner arrived to fight himself. At first he was fine with the sword being destroyed, and tried to help. After several attempts - some of which included stretching the sword and nearly disassembling it and all sorts of ridiculous cartoonish things, like tying it to two vehicles moving in opposite directions - his wife showed up and said he shouldn't be doing that, they quite liked this immortality of a sort, so get rid of this guy, hmm? He sighed, said something like "Yes, dear," and looked at me and shrugged and the sword came back together again for the xteenth time.
Friggin' cursed swords.
Anyway, I woke up as sore as if I'd moved every piece of furniture in the house by myself across a football field and back and with enough eye-boogers to crust my left eye shut until I pried the stuff off. Just bad, bad morning.