home sweet home

I can't remember when was the last time I woke up to something which wasn't the irritating alarm going off on my phone or KC's. This morning, I woke up to my brains telling me to. Such luxurious feeling! Such blissful rejuvenation of the body and soul! Birds were singing outside the window, and the sun was up but my room was still cool, preserving the sweet scent of the night, and I felt totally rested, the dream the night before just a nice faint recollection of boats and jetties...

I love not remembering dreams, because I've read somewhere that if I do, it means that my brains have not been resting at all. And more often than not, I have the weirdest dreams. (No no, I don't want to share)

Lately, I experienced continuous nights of wondrous dreamless slumber... when I sleep over at KC's. With my imagination constantly running wild and brains perpetually forced into overdrive during the day, having a dreamless night of sleep had long been shoved and stomped to the bottom of the bottomless pit of my abandoned wishlist. So why no dreams now? Maybe it's KC's neat little room with air-conditioning. Maybe it's the safe and comforting presence of another warm creature within touch (gee, does this mean my Mum didn't touch/cuddle me enough as a child?). Maybe lately, "sleep" isn't the rightful description but "passing out from too much chatting/VCD-watching" is (cannot be! I have unexplicably kooky dreams passing out from too much liquor). Or maybe KC is just this supercalifragilisticexpialidoceous wonderful being sent to protect and provide earthly love and comfort and strength specially just for me. Yeah.

Oh I love being home. There's a TV here.