Last night was no exception. I don't remember all the details of my dream, but I woke up whimpering (yes, whimpering, shut up) and exhausted. Somehow there were explosives around and there was no way to dismantle them and get them anywhere. Because it was a dream and dreams don't make sense the only way to keep people from being injured (we were in the middle of some random neighborhood) was to cover the bombs with your body. Two boys from my ward (Tyler and Kevin) volunteered and somehow I did. Then the person who set the bombs suddenly showed up and shot me, one of the boys, and Jimmer Fredette (who was volunteering too, apparently) in the stomach. I woke up as we all lay curled around the bombs waiting for them to go off and bleeding to death.
Seven and a half hours of sleep, no rest.
1 comment:
That is really sad! Good luck! ps. Love the blog!
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