Since last night, I've been on the verge of getting sick. Something stomach-centered; something I ate, maybe. Made it hard to sleep, and when I did fall asleep, my dreams were disturbingly vivid. USUALLY THEY'RE JUST VIVID. These dreams felt like cut Inherent Vice scenes as directed by Paul Thomas Anderson (including a bit where I needed, for some reason, to measure the chest of a topless woman lying in bed without being obnoxious or lascivious about it) with an extra scene of grindhouse violence guest-directed by Robert Rodriguez. The violence bit (me literally riding into a gang rumble and being unable to get out or get to somewhere where I could call 911) was the closest thing to a nightmare I've had in a long time.
Dreamers gonna dream, just not necessarily what they'd like to dream about.
I'm still a little queasy (it comes and goes), but I'll get by. And think nicer images and nicer thoughts, because I have more control of my waking mind.