I'm Even Neurotic in My Dreams

I've been fighting off some sort of bug for most of the week, which is part of why there hasn't been any posting this week; the other part is, of course, that I am horribly lazy. Anyway, last night was the first time all week that I slept soundly enough to have any real dream time, which was cool in that I actually got some rest for once, but not so cool in that they were pretty much all stress dreams, with me finding myself in one anxiety-causing situation after another. I don't recall all the particulars but I do recall (a) doing a zip-line over a huge chasm with no safety harness; (b) being the subject of an impromptu underwater rescue drill in white-water rapids with little hope of being actually rescued; (c) fearing that a stubborn Shack-Fu's refusal to give budge in his position while arguing with law enforcement officials on some rinky-dink point was going to get us all thrown in jail; and (d) having the geeky cast of The Big Bang Theory do experiments outside in a garden. That last might not sound all that stress inducing, until you consider the ramifications of fussy, germaphobic Sheldon being in lots of dirt surrounded by bugs and birds and other living things. This was the section that ended my dream, as something got on Sheldon's leg, and he shouted out, jumping up and swatting at it . . . at which point I promptly woke up and shot out of bed, grasping the same leg which was contracted in a painful muscle cramp. Quite an odd example of the mind-body connection, no?

It is a sure sign of my illness-and-medication addled state of being that it wasn't until I was done relating the story to Gemini this morning on the way to work that the ramifications of me having even partially identified with Sheldon in my dream dawned on me. Looks like I may need a bit more sleep after all.