Sleep refuses to bless me with her otherworldly touch tonight.
And I'm pissed about it.
I slept late last night talking to my boyfriend of nearly a year, Daniel, via instant messenger trying to work out a few kinks in our relatively perfect-in-my-eyes relationship. By the time I got off AIM I was groggy-eyed and emotionally drained, slightly annoyed but ready to hit the pillows in utter exhaustion. Sleep came to me. But in the creepiest of ways.
I had a dream. A dream about a liquefied chicken. Yes, I know these don't exist, but my dreams teeter on the extreme. I was at some carnival with my mom (of all people) and we decided to hit up a game booth. My mom won me a prize: the liquefied chicken. I remember thinking, "Oh, man, I hate chickens" but thought nothing of the fact that my prize was nonexistent and plain out bizarre, only that I couldn't tell my hyped up mom that "chicken" was code for "devil's spawn." The liquefied chicken was actually a plastic mold of a chicken with a yellow, jello-y filling on the inside. The "cool" thing about it was that if you sprinkled food (which looked like fish pellets) inside of the mold that the chicken would come alive. So, I proceeded to do so. From the yellow substance came a real life, clucking chicken. I was slightly amused, but not amazed. The chicken started pecking at the ground and while I turned around to express my fake enthusiasm at owning a chicken to my mom, the bastard started running away! So, I started chasing it, afraid it would run out into the street (which, now that I reflect upon it, is quite funny). Instead, it ran towards a massive trash dumpster where another chicken had somehow shown up, both running in circles clucking hysterically. I was pissed off at having to chase my chicken, and now I had to figure out which one was mine. Eventually, I caught it and somehow converted it back into its original jello form. And took it home.
...I really need to go to sleep earlier.