Day 8.1

I was an absolute zombie this morning. You may think you know what being zombified feels like after an all-nighter or two -- you have no idea. I've been there, and this was twice as bad. If the aftermath of two consecutive all-nighters is 10% functionality, I was at maybe 2%, where 0% would be brain-dead. It took an astonishing amount of willpower not to crawl into bed and hibernate. I probably spent three hours just staring at the wall before my 10:30 nap. I had my laptop open and everything -- I just could not focus on it for any length of time. I had actually meant to post the very strange dream I had, but again, just was not physically capable of typing it out. That post read, "I had the weirdest dream jus t now. It wassssn;r luciid pwewsonne i and folledo'nt finmmmmm" at which point I clearly gave up. I'm not sure what the second sentence is supposed to mean...

I can still remember parts of the dream, though not as clearly as at eight in the morning, if I was at all capable of remembering anything then. Interestingly, it wasn't a completely lucid dream, but one wherein I had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't real, but I was too caught up in the situation to really do anything about it. I was being chased through an abandoned warehouse, and some homeless guy pops out of a filing cabinet. He was terrifying; he had a massive, dirty grey beard, crooked teeth, and these absolutely feverish, murky yellow eyes in an otherwise expressionless face. I jumped out of a window.
Fortunately, it was snowing outside, and I landed in a snowdrift. It was getting dark out, and the only real light came from the orangy-yellow streetlamps. For some reason, I decide that instead of running away, it would be a better idea to try and hide in a pile of snow that was all of two feet tall. The people who were chasing me come into view; one of them is this pale, dark-haired lady in a black fur coat, carrying a walking-stick sort of like Lucius Malfoy's in the films. I seem to find that stick more frightening than the knives and pistols everyone else was carrying; she poked it into the snowdrift and I burst out of the other side, flat-out sprinting. She cries "After her!" and "Off with her head!" in a distinctly Queen of Hearts way.
I end up in the middle of a highway; I leap onto a passing taxi and somehow fall through its (open?) moonroof. All the cars start bottlenecking, and I know I'm being chased, so I yell, "Hurry up! Don't stop!" or something along those lines at the driver. He turns around -- and it's the homeless guy!
And that's all I remember. Wow, my subconscious is one messed up place.