Disrruptive, disturbing, fraught with emotional distress. Death, disease, daring-do in competetive martial arts. Last eve found me writhing, wriggling and wishing it would end, but end it did not until the late dawn hours when Clyde's twittering punctured my REM to relieve me of the psychic torture being perpetrated by my subconscious. Stress, drastically lowered blood sugar and anxiety all conspired to make my nighttime hours exceptionally painful. I awoke all fuzzy and then proceeded to slice off the end of my thumb with a lovely French "shiv" while dicing pomegranite for my feathered felons. Shock ensued. I lay on the cool tile of the kitchen hoping to retain my bile, and draw blood back to my light head.
OY! What a morning!
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