So, oh my god, I just slept for 18 hours. From 5pm to 3am, then from 5am to 2pm. That's 18 hours, right? Something like that. In the span of those 18 hours, I had 3 awful dreams. A synopsis:
In the first one, Lindsey and I were driving in the snowy woods and spun off the road. I was really, really scared and sure I was going to die. I woke up and looked around and was really scared. Then I read a bit of "Confessions of a Shopaholic," which is a lot like me except my book would be titled, "Confessions of an Eataholic." Then I went back to sleep.
In my second dream, I had a heart attack, but I didn't die.
In my third dream, my mom, brother, and I were stuck in a house with my dad and he was drinking again and we were trying to get out and I kept telling me dad that I would never talk to him again and I was scared and disappointed.
Then I woke up, realized it was 2pm, and decided it was high time I got my arse out of bed. Now I'm really dizzy and fuzzy and headachey. This was a bad idea.