Too Much Sleep

Lately, I've been sleeping too much. 10 to 12 hours. This time last year, I was sleeping 5 hours a night, and getting headaches during the day due to lack of sleep. Here are some possible reasons why:

1. maybe my body is fighting off the killer flu that closed another high school (no symptoms/knock on wood)
   
2. maybe i'm experiencing depression (doubt it)
3. maybe tv is objectively not that interesting right now (likely)

In any case, last night I hit the sack around 8:30. I woke up around 4:00 am, very well rested, but of course it was only 4:00 am, so I went back to bed. Whenever I give myself that extra sleep that my body doesn't know what to do with, I always end up remembering strange dreams.

I dreamt my dad put my mama and I in a van in Sto. Tomás, and the reason he told me was to go shopping in Manila. Of course, first we stopped less than a mile from where we started, at a store run apparently by one of our relatives. My dad stopped the car and got a big bag of m&ms and threw them into the car, not realizing that there was a whole in the bag, and m&ms went spilling all over the ground. Before my dad could turn on his family charm, a kid came up to him and scolded him, telling him the m&ms were not his. He disappeared into the back for a while, while my mama and I sat in the van, which we realized was slowly rolling. He ran back out and put it in park, but then I got annoyed, so I got out of the car, walked around to the driver's side, and put on the emergency break.

Then my dad came back and told us, ok, time to go to Manila. Once the car was going, though, he went in another direction and I started to get mad. He told me we were going to stop at another house, and he wanted me to go inside. Who's there? I asked. What will I do?

He said 'just go inside!' and acted like I was being unreasonable, but I told him to forget it. Screw that. Throughout my childhood, my dad has always tried to surprise me, and I have always always HATED his surprises. Always. Categorically. I hate my dad's surprises. EVERY SINGLE ONE. I started telling him, and he got mad, so he just drove the next few blocks, parked in (another relative's) garage, and then went in himself.

I asked mama what he wanted me to go in for, and mama said, of course, to pick up some food. After a while a man I didn't know came out, started the van back up again and drove us another few blocks to a dead end. I thought, ok, he's parking the car for us. I started telling my mama how frustrating it was that I was told we were going to Manila, and instead we were doing all these things. Mama to told me to be patient, but I said, I don't lie to dad! Why does he lie to me? He is a liar! And mama said he's not a liar, he just doesn't like to tell you everything. Just be patient.

At this point the man in the driver's seat who had parked us at a dead end pulled a gun on me. I laughed at him, because I could see that it was a plastic flare gun, that wasn't even loaded. So then I grabbed him by his long hair, dragged him out of driver's seat and through the passenger's side door, and started savagely beating him in the face.

I woke up during the savage beating, and wondered breifly who the man I was savagely beating was, and what had happened to my dad in the house. But then I remembered, oh, it's just dream violence.

Look, when the plan is 'we're going to Manila,' I want to go to Manila. Period. If the plan is something else, just frikken tell me, and I'll be ok. But if you put me in a car and tell me a fake plan, then SOMEBODY IS GOING TO GET SAVAGELY BEAT IN THE FACE.

I need to know the plan. Once I know the plan, I am on board.

Maybe I'll get washed up and go out to breakfast.