Da (Subconscious) Grind

Third or fourth night of intense, odd dreams, long and twisty, which seem extremely well-constructed when inside them, then extremely tenuous once you wake. This morning, for example, I recognized one of the characters in what had up 'til then been a rather heart-wrenching adoption/serial killer damage fallout case as That Samoan-Looking Football Guy from the commercial for a type of shampoo that supposedly makes your hair progressively longer and thicker, until you end up with hair that's half the size of your entire body; the night before, I dreamt I was watching an episode of America's Best Dance-Crew scored to a mash-up between "Ballroom Blitz" and "In the Ayer" so distinct, I could have broken down the exact mixture of competing samples. (Perhaps it's relevant that my choice of late Monday wind-down film was, in fact, Michel Gondry's The Science of Sleep...but maybe not, because I sure didn't do that every night.)

Still: I'm up now, feeling okay. Have errands to run, a lunch appointment, and should make sure to do at least a few hours on Chapter Ten, which seems imminently finishable.