I have a little book in front of me called The Ultimate Nap Book by Sark. I grabbed it off my shelf because incredulously, I just took a three hour nap with my dog on the couch, and I was hoping the book could justify my idle waste of three hours.

And the weird dreams I had. When I nap deep, it affects my dream world. In the dreams I am unable to move properly, because in real life I am glued in one position on the couch and my subconscious makes me all wonky, as if I’ve drunken ten cosmopolitans and stumbled out of a giant tree house.

In my dream I was trying to explain what color paint I wanted on my motorcycle. (I had a motorcycle?) And the (older, very sexy shop owner) kept touching me and I kept giggling and falling over, like a Barbie with stiff limbs. Oh hee hee you want pink and red? Stumble. Or Red and black? Trip forward splayed on the ground. Then the inevitable happens. I won’t go into it. It was…strange.

This isn’t the first time this has happened to me. I can’t seem to separate real world from nap world. Or dream world for that matter. If I have a deep complex dream I wake up and it stays in my head the entire day. It really happens, yet I know it wasn’t real. Like some type of parallel universe.

I’m hoping a diet dr. pepper will knock me alive.

My shoulders are throbbing as if I am Warren Worthington III/Angel from X-Men III, and I cut off my wings to please the real world. I swear if I reach back there I am going to touch two little bony nubs.

Perhaps I just need all the extra rest so my wings can grow back, and in a few months I’ll be able to fly.

Hmm.