The sense of paranoia that happens when you reach a certain level of over-tired is pretty scary at the time (while it occures), although it can be amusing after the fact. That fear of never waking up doesn’t happen any other time. Well, maybe after a day of eating donair(s) and pizza(s) as is absolutely necessary from time to time.
I’m severely disappointed by the lack of hallucinations that happen when I’m this tired. Actually I’m quite thankful because the mere concept of hallucinations is something that I’m afraid of, but on the other hand I figure such a thing would make for some interesting writing material y’know? Maybe I should go back to abusing NeoCitran.
Oh man, that stuff was awesome! One time had this dream that hot dog wieners became illegal somehow and on the way to school (I would’ve been 16 or 17 at the time) I walked by an alleyway where a sketchy guy was dealing illicit hot dogs cooked on a secret barbeque. Then the next night I had this other dream where the police busted some kid’s birthday because his parents were serving hot dogs. It was hardcore. They were driving their police cars through the lawn table things and everything. Man, had I kept that up I could’ve written some sort of novel . . .
But no . . . Instead here I am just debating on if I should go to bed three hours early tonight or not. Lame.
LOL….I sooooo want to now read about the hot dog underground crime wave *giggles*
I can totally see a book about that.
You can see a book about it? Where is it!? I wanna read it! 😀
Hahaha. *yells out* Community Book Writing!!!
Perhaps it can star off with:
I drove up to the crime scene. The dead man lay there. Face down.
“Illegal hot dog stand,” I said to the nearby detective.
“How can you tell?” he asked.
“The mustard,” I remarked. “The way he’s laying in that pool of mustard, I’d say he was bludgeoned with condiment tray.”
Hahahaha…I am soooo bad at this.
Community Book Writing!
I don’t think there’s any way to make this hot dog concept sound good ha ha:
I couldn’t let anybody know about my off-duty addiction. Especially since I was appointed head of the new anti-cooked wiener division. Terrible, I know . . . But everyone’s got a mortgage, you know? Or rent. Whatever.