I truly do not like being up this late. I want my old schedule back so I can be asleep before the sky lights up. Disruption is exhausting, especially in summer when the sky lights up very early, and my brain, already muddled as a result of being poached, needs no further aggravation.
Also, I want a thunderstorm.
An odd fragment of dream clung to my cloudy mind when I woke today. I was looking at myself in a mirror and was surprised to see that I had past-the-shoulder, curly black hair. I looked like Louis XIV. Thinking that I must be wearing a wig (though I noted to myself that I had no recollection of having donned one), I tried to lift it off my head and found that it was my real hair. I think that I must have begun to wake up at that point, because I became aware that I was dreaming and was looking forward to the next part of the dream, but it never came, and by the time I woke, the earlier part of the dream had vanished from my memory. I've been wondering ever since what that early part of the dream (if any) was like, and how I came to have a French Renaissance hair-do.
There was going to be more to this post, on an entirely different subject, but it got really, really long while I was writing it, and I couldn't finish it, so it has to wait. Maybe it will be tomorrow's post.