New Plot Proposal

So I had a really weird dream last night, kinda like one of those teen-romance-comedy movies, where I was at a university reunion (don't ask) and was telling a friend why I hadn't been back before; I had proposed to a girl at the end of our university lives with a large salmon and a note explaining why I loved her and how she was similar to the aforementioned fish. Suffice to say, that didn't even work well in dreamworld and after she (quite rightly) chastised me for doing it while saying if I'd used a ring she'd be much more inclined to say yes, I irrationally stormed off out of the university and we never saw each other again.

Then the friend told me that she was doing a speech before the reunion meal, and I could go see her then and win her back. Logically, this is an idiot move and wouldn't work. In dreamworld, this seemed like a great idea, so we set off to find her lecture. On the way we gathered up a number of our old school friends until we found where the room we were meant to be going was. At this point, we were late and had to run and it is here, I feel, that I should have figured out it was a dream; I was wearing slippers. Upon this discovery, I traded them with a passing student so I could run faster.

We got to the lecture room only slightly late, but as the girl I proposed to with a fish was also late another talk was going on about neuro-physics. I actually made the mistake of pushing a 'pull' door in my dream, so even there I suffer from uncontrollable bouts of idiocy, and then we all sat at the back. Where we proceeded to play beer pong and normal ping pong because none of us new about, nor wanted to be introduced to, neuro-physics.

Then I woke up. So I never got a chance to re-propose to the girl, minus fish. If I told a therapists that dream, I wonder what they would say?

Mainly, I was going to talk about how my lack of organizational ability means I haven't got a chance to blog and how I envy my house mate, from here on known as The Rebel, for his ability to motivate himself to start his final essay-project thing while my dissertation sits rather unhappily at the 0 words mark. It doesn't even have a greatly defined title; Empire Strikes Back: American Imperialism in Cuba. Fun in theory but since my reading pile is getting bigger as I find more sources but decide against using them I am not looking forward to the eventual late-night cram sessions actually writing my dissertation will entail. That's my own fault really, so I can't complain.

I'm pretty sure The Rebel will read this and be mildly entertained by it - if he's confused I'll tell him here that it's an ironic name, but I'm sure I'll figure it out. For now though, I have to go read about Guantanamo Bay. And not the interesting part, the legislature and legal documentation. Academic ecstasy? Probably not, especially as I've managed to retain my illness through the Lent period after giving up alcohol. I think I may have an actual problem. I'll hope to lose it in my reading somewhere.