That’s enough bitching and whining, though. As i expected, my apartment isn’t especially well insulated. I knew this because it resembles my childhood home so much, and my room there was always frigid. So, it was hardly a surprise yesterday when after shutting all of the windows i still had to crawl under a blanket before i went to sleep. Chill air permeates this place, seeping in past the cracks and aged worry lines of the wooden window frames. The apartment feels so empty like this, just me stting at the computer, everything packed away to where it’s meant to be, the floor bare and silent. I had another dream about snow last night… rain frozen to the streets despite the day being just moderately autumn. Am i so cold that it seeps into my deams? I can never dial a phone in dreams, but i always catch myself thinking this isn’t a dream, you should be able to dial it. More agonizing than anything else is sitting on the floor, trying to dial up the weather hotline to see if classes are cancelled, and being unable to hit any of the right buttons. This seems to go on for hours, it takes over for entire dreams. A dream about a blizzard becomes a dream spent on the phone. A dream about love becomes one about forgetting her number. The list goes on and on. It’s actually a bit disturbing, because i used to dream of flying almost every night, so much that i almost would feel as though i could fly when i awoke in the morning. I haven’t flown once since moving into this apartment. Maybe it’s the upper bunk staring down at me, reminding me that i am as grounded as any other sleeper, with no place to go. Whatever it is, it’s left me hopelessly trying to dial phones for nights on end. Last night’s dream ended with me watching a Superman cartoon and thinking that WonderWoman could withstand a head-on punch from the Man of Steel. I’m sure she could, too. Batman’s the weak one.