Wha? Only after I go through all the agony of trying to figure out which email I used so that I can get my username sent to me so that I can get my password sent to me... only then does Blogger realise that yes, I am actually signed in already, thank you very much.

*sigh*

Last night I was playing a strategy game on a map of London with little buses and tanks as my pieces. (Oh yeah, this was another one of those weird dreams, by the way.) Certain key strategic buildings were the base points to conquer. Inside one building (and this was all happening concurrently), I was in a ballet. New and innovative, but incorporating the feel of conservative dance. I conquered the theatre with a double-decker red bus with no roof (you know, the ones the tourists love and I can't see the point of 'cause what if it rains?) and the two threads of my dream came together like a well-structed storyline. The performance swelled to its climax, borne on the breathless anticipation of the audience. I was just being dragged around the stage by some amazingly famous and talented Russian dancer (Russia again!) when the alarm went off.

I was so deep it literally took me half a minute to emerge. It was like coming up from the deep. Murky green water parting in front of me as ahead, the light gets brighter, and then I break the surface with a gasp and a long moment of disorientation.