Nightmare, but not that bad.

I stand by my earlier conviction that the drugs are doing something. I had a nightmare last night about being kept as someone's slave and having boiling water poured over me, but it wasn't that bad. (Which sounds ridiculous, I know.) By this I mean that it certainly wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't as horror-filled as a lot of dreams have been. There wasn't any gore. I didn't wake up in a puddle of sweat afterward, and the dream started to fall apart upon waking, so it's just sort of a hazy memory now. That part's nice, so that I can't dwell on the horrid little details for days. I also distinctly got the feeling that worse stuff was waiting just on the other side of the dream, and if the drug wasn't there keeping it at bay, it would've come to pay a visit.

Kinda makes me wonder what the dreams I don't remember but wake up sweating from are like... Although to be fair, I suppose I already know the answer to that. They're the dreams I used to have.

In other news, Patrick is going to play Puccini's Turandot this summer with the Seattle Symphony (as part of the Seattle Opera)! I am very proud of him. I hope he enjoys it. There are quite a few performance dates, and it should be a lot of fun for him. Congratulations, darling. You're awesome.

I hope you all have a wonderful weekend. Happy Friday!