About shrunken heads, Gentle Reader.
About shrunken heads.
DH has taken to texting me the things I say while sleeping so that when I wake up in the morning, I’m greeted with a variety of randomness uttered from my own mouth. I have no particular memory of shrunken heads, or why such a thought would have entered my mind, but there you have it. I’m talking in my sleep.
I find this and all sleep-related non-sleep activity to be a bit bizarre, especially when it happens for me. I don’t think I fully understand what happens when we sleep, and I don’t always remember my dreams. I certainly don’t remember bopping DH with my owl pillow and babbling about shrunken heads! How uncouth!
This has marked my day so that it started strangely, and now, after a long day and a very, very early morning, I’m ready to eat leftovers (something I rarely do, Gentle Reader!) and get some sleep.
But first, prepping class.
The life of the mind is never done.
The Postmodern Bluestocking 