Bloody dream and dream bloody

As much as I love awesome zombie apocalypse movies, the after effect of me watching them is not what I ever look forward to or remember... It's strange really: the epicness of such movies totally outweigh the adverse effects on me.  You see, no matter at what time during the day I watch some sort zombie movie, when I go to sleep I get nightmares.  Usually they are bearable and I end up holding my own against the zombies.  However, onslaught after onslaught of imaginary dead cannibals, start to freak me out and I automatically wake myself up.  Then if I wish to dream of something else, I have to entirely adjust how I'm laying in bed.  If I return to how I was when I woke up, I return to the dream I was in to begin with.  However, if I move into a different position, the dream changes to something else, hopefully more pleasant.

The move into a new dream can be annoying sometimes (though to begin with it's an entirely strange concept, that dreams are in specific places in my pillow and bed), because if I'm really enjoying a dream but have to move due to physical discomfort, I will lose the good dream.  It's a sad night, but sleep is sleep.

I hate losing good dreams.  I really do.  Especially, y'know, good ones.

Thesaurus is a friend, not just a dinosaur.

Wow, open a nice new blogging account for myself and I don't know what to do!  Well like all new things, got to learn what it is and how to use it first.  I suppose I'll follow along those lines milling around this site enough.  Either that or I'll put up caution tape some where to remind myself: "Mass confusion ahead!".  Regardless, I really should start writing again.  I did, at one time, consider myself quite the literary artist.  I've written countless poems (though really not countless, I'm sure if I took the time there would be a definite number), and less than countless stories.  Mostly, however, beginnings of stories.  You'd be hard pressed to find a story that I've fini...

But after stresses in my life, the pen has fallen from my hand.  I could blame college, it's relentless advocacy for proper grammar kills even the most creative minds. (And then I just spent 5 minutes on that sentence trying to decide if it was grammatically correct and making sure I used the appropriate vocabulary... )  Or I could blame my own decimated muse for cutting my right brain off.  As you should know, the right side of your brain is primarily for art and literature, while the left is logic and mathematics (this is where I sound like a nerd).  I did have a muse once.  I participated in online literary role playing.  Please don't ask, I'd rather not explain here, but this is where I am a geek.

Anyway, as you can see, I'm not any plain can of sardines.  erm yuck.  I am rather... something else, to say the least.