2007-01-22
i have class in 8 hours
This morning on the bus was a big debacle.
By the time I got to kippling station I was stuck behind a line of people only using 1 of 2 available doors that were side by side to go both out to the platform and into the station. I hate this. There are 2 doors people! This caused me to be on the tail end of people boarding the 191 bus. Yes, the one that was written about in the paper as a threat to public safety.
So I decide to wait the 10 minutes that the TTC predicts will take the next bus to magically appear. 20 minutes later, the 192 airport bus, which shares a slot with my 191 pulls up to load people on, thus occupying the spot. I had positioned myself at the end of the platform so that when the 191 arrived I would be the first one on. But since the 192 was in the slot the 191 took the slot behind the 192, thereby giving those who had only just begun to wait, and were therefore pushed to the end of the platform by the mass of people waiting for the 191, pride of place.
This meant that for the first time since last year, I had to stand up on the bus to school. I hate this. Especially since the bus goes on the highway. And since the woman standing next to me shot me death glares every time I so much as brushed against her.
And a woman with one of those double long baby strollers blocked like 3 seats and then insisted on getting off the bus at a bus stop basically no one uses and aproximately 15 people had to get off the bus so that she could get off and then get back on and then go one stop to the main college stop.
Gah!
I got to wine class with only moments to spare.
I then, I'm pretty sure, was fed disgusised and denied tomatoes.
Came home, hung out with roomie and went to bed early. Talked to Connor and then went to sleep at 10pm.
Woke up at 1145pm, inronically only moments before the Roddick/Fish match started on Australian Open radio, which I subconsciously wanted to listen to. My internal clock is a marvel of modern living. I can usually wake up at a certain time just by plating the suggestion in my mind. "Oh, I should wake up at 840 tomorrow" and tada!
Why did I wake up at 1145? I had a very very disturbing dream.
Bizare aspects of it included us living in an apartment building with a pool complex like the one roomie works at and she worked here instead.
Other bizare aspects include (remember, this is a dream) the fact that Connor was a total fake.
**note: description of dream and not reality follows**
There were vague plans for Connor and I to meet late at night to go swimming in the complex in our building. But I decided I didn't want to go, even though I could sort of see that Connor had gone (somehow, in that weird omnipotant thing that happens in dreams).
And then I called him and it somehow came out that he said he was somewhere that I knew he wasn't because I could "see" him. Oh, and my bed was facing a different way, which couldnt happen in my room because of size issues, but I had the same room, just oriented differently.
And then somehow it came out that he was actually a 50 year old man from the midwest somewhere who was married and had hired this guy to be in toronto and "act" as connor but was controling his moves...or something...and I had intercepted their cell conversation by calling...or something.
And then I somehow ended up at some kind of party with people who work for the same company that Connor works for and they were shooting holes in his story. Like, saying that someone with his job title would do the opposite of what he did...but it wasn't his real life job title, it was something else.
And then at some point we were donating clothes and household leftovers to some AIDS charity or something.
***weird,eh***
Anyway, I often have trouble seperating dreams from memories...and this really freaked me out.
moi at 11:48 p.m.
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