I need my Sandman (can I request a Sandwoman?). Ah, yes, the ramblings of delirium. I shall leave this up even after I've had enough sleep and I read it over again realizing I was tapping out drivel on the edge of the cliff of dream deprivation.
I'm so tired I can't tell if that last sentence sounds poetic or pathetic. I'm going to bet on pathetic because I seriously doubt that I can be poetic with so little mind left. And I have come to the resounding conclusion that dreaming is a bodily necessity. Okay, not exactly. I might look like Death, but I'm nowhere near it. I'm well fed, watered and can still stand up straight, albeit with a slight lilt that portends a wont of drunkenness.
Portends? Wont? Where do I get these words of old? Of that, I am not certain. What I am certain of, however is that my soul is elder to by body. My soul feels as though it hath lived a thousand years and the desire to follow the path of love, hope and prosperity is strong in her. Which is why, I believe, I have followed my true self finally and fallen in love with the one who has stolen my heart from me. She walks on the path of hope and I walk beside her on the path of prosperity. Together we create the path of love.
Damn, I do ramble. I shall get a laugh out of this in a day or three. And now I've gone all mushy on top of it!
Time to go bathe Elektra and then read to the kids (The Hobbit is a little over half way done now). Then, in half an hour, I will shower, dry, and take some melatonin.
I have gotten to a point of sleep deprivation now, where if I don't take a sleep aid, I will lie awake for hours again.
Here I am Sandwoman, blow your sleep dust in my eyes and take me to dreamworld!