The morning is tinged with unreality.
It is too hot in this building. Sleep has done little to help me. The alarm clock, which I have hit the traitorous snooze button on an inordinate number of times on, has done the strange feat of both seeming to move backwards and stand still. A post on two different feeds has declared two different days of the week. My phone says a third, and I am inclined to believe Andromeda here. (Yes I named my phone, deal with it. ...after the droid, not the galaxy.)
A phone conversation I thought I lost turned out to be several disjointed dreams. The ONLY reason I've not freaked out is because it wasn't one of... Those dreams. These were people I know would never leave, never betray me. (Hell, I could turn into a literal potato and they'd be okay with me.)
But the problem is I'm having a very real problem connecting solids with reality. Seeing the clock move right now is reassuring. My suspicion is placed squarely upon the capricious device in the faux artsy photo (fauxto?) above. It is barely cooling at all, and it is too hot. As in "people don't sweat" hot. I'm desperately trying to cool down, to get a solid grasp of solid reality. I'm dizzy and nauseous and hot. I can't even get my eyes to focus. And I can hear the window unit starting to spit water again—the compressor will have to be shut off after only half an hour on. It's supposed to hit 89° today. It's only 72° now. And it's not even July yet.