Last night I had a series of horrible dreams. The worst by far was, you guessed it, a bar exam fiasco. The exam was taking place in a huge hotel, in an elaborate section of an industrial complex. There were thousands of people taking the bar, and I found a seat next to my friend Elvis (who is taking the WA bar so shouldn't even have been there). Before the exam started, I needed to go to the bathroom several times. Each time I went, I got lost, either in the hotel or in the city. I eventually found my way back to my seat each time, but with great difficulty, never remembering where my seat was. Perhaps my subconscious concerned that with Steve gone I am lost?
Likely so, as I awoke from the next dream so angry at Steve, I wanted to hit him. Luckily he wasn't there.
Those dreams, that make you wake with lingering emotions, it is so difficult to separate life and dream land. I just wish my dreams were nicer than life. Life sucks hard enough as it is. I chalk it all up to lack of alcohol.
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