You know

You know, probably the worst part about flying dreams is the moment just after you've woken up when you realize that moving around today is going to be a hell of a lot less entertaining than it was just a few minutes ago. I hate that. A close second is probably that in my flying dreams I never just take off and fly around like a normal person - no - no I have to have some interesting method of getting off the ground and moving around. This most recent time it appears that in order to take off I would begin running, which would slowly transform into a sort of running-on-all-fours-like-a-dog thing. From there I would begin running on just my hands (it's a dream remember), hoping along at tremendous speeds and the hops would just get longer and longer until eventually I could esentially fly. I think the right half of my brain kept trying to rationalize the ability to fly by making me be in some sort of incredibly low earth orbit. Infernal Geek side of me.

Though at least I'm not alone - last night I was explained the N+1 theory of dishwashing, which really does make sense.


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