…You see the life I’ve got means I hardly sleep a jot.
I started university at the end of September, and it’s full on already, man. I mean, right now I’m just taking a break from listening to some additional lecture material about standard deviation and z-scores, and later on I’ll be trying to approximately balance the evidence for and against the Aquatic Ape Hypothesis in time for a presentation.
Anyway what with this and that, I really haven’t been keeping up with my sleep research.
But on Saturday, hungover after dinner at a friend’s house,* my subconscious woke me up with a dream that K had just dumped me – by text, the cad. It wasn’t even spellingly or grammatically correct, which is all the more heartbreaking.
This morning, a dream about masturbation. No really, there was a Downton Abbey – style house in which lived a lot of aristocratic women who had never learnt how to masturbate. Two of the servant-girls slyly told them what they were missing. The aristocrats were too overcome with new-found delight to know that the servants were laughing behind their aprons at how pathetic their naive mistresses were.
Also, sitting at my computer studying, and being distracted by a large, dark grey owl that seemed to swoop directly towards my bedroom window, then change tack at the last moment to fly over the house instead.
* there were deep-fried olives, and homemade lamb ravioli! Juskers I’m a student don’t mean I have to eat pot noodles, yo.