sweet dreams are not made of these

I had one terrible night of sleep last night. Because of my late morning nap, I didn't go to bed until 1.35 am, which is OK. I've done that before. But my neighbors were very noisy, and then it settled down for hours only to reach very weird heights around 5.30 am. They must have been drunk, totally unaware of the time, to have been stammering their mouths and bodies through the hallways, right? There is broken glass just outside our corridor's entrance and another empty pint down the hallway.

When I had gotten to sleep, I had the most bizarre dream. Louis and I were waiting for a bus with Stephanie on it. At the bus stop, we were waiting with Paul Haggis. Haggis and I aggressively discussed Crash (2005), but he admitted to me that "it's not very good." When I was finished exchanging words with him, Louis and I hopped on a red London double-decker but we weren't in London. At least it didn't look like it. I don't know what it looked like. We told Stephanie about our confrontation with Haggis. And that's all I can remember.

Then this morning, I didn't wake up by 8 or 9 am or exercise as my list of changes requires me to do. I was finally woken up by my next-door neighbor who tried to unlock my room's door. I opened the door, he looked like a zombie, and I pointed my finger to my left. "That's you," I said. He didn't say anything, but with my tip, he went over there and it took him a few minutes to get in. 10 am? Why is he drunk at 10 am? I would think he'd be hungover, but you can think when you're hungover. Totally bizarre.