06 January 2001 ~ The plane's destination...

It's 3.48 in the morning. I'm due to wake up around 11ish to go taste some new coffee samples with Dave at Java's (there is almost no one as fine a coffee companion as Dave, of course, although he does play excessively with his crema...).

But I can't sleep. I wish to gahd my bottle of Bailey's (well, Aaron's bottle of Bailey's that lived at my house) had not been stolen. I am very much in a mood to have just enough to drink to put me into a nice thick sleep. Particularly Bailey's. I'd even be willing to forgo putting it in coffee.

I'm going to try a hot shower and a couple paragraphs of a very dense book. Maybe that will help.

I just have the distinct feeling that something is very wrong, and/or about to go very wrong. I had that feeling all day, actually, since that stupid dream about the plane... I just want to know where the hell the plane was going, because it seems like I'm supposed to know, and in the meantime, I'm worried and anxious and sort of bitchy... Anxious that I'm supposed to be going someplace or doing something, and I don't know where or what...

Shower. Book. Sleep.

Plane.

~Helena*