Sleep, why hast thou forsaken me?

I spent most of last night on the M25. Not actually, you understand. Actual body was in actual bed. But DreamScrivener was on the M25, with my sister, who in my dream was moving to London and was Very Confused. So there we were, driving around, bickering - sisters, right? Actually I haven't bickered with her since, ooh, long ago. Except in dreams. Though I managed to keep my sense of humour, which I thought was pretty good for a dream. I defused her with a witty comment about how our bickering was better than that of some people next to us at the service station, 'cos we're sisters, we've been doing this all our lives, our bickering is Quality'. Hey, it worked in the dream.

But the fact remains, spending a night on the M25 - especially bickering - is not conducive to waking up refreshed and raring to go. Especially when it's the second night in a row. Not that I was on the M25 on Monday night; I can't remember what DreamScrivener was up to then. But I can tell you, there wasn't much sleep happening either night. Just enough to enter dreamworld; not enough to go beyond dreams into actual rest time. Now I like dreams, really. Dreams are groovy. I think it's very cool to have access to this whole other reality every night, and really, I wish I could spend more time dreaming. But not at the expense of real sleep, please. Now I'm walking around bleary eyed and stoopid.

Say a big hello to Zombie Scrivener.