Usually there's some continuity to my dreaming, a basic cohesive narrative flow. Last night's dreams were extremely fragmentary, jumping from one topic to the next without a clear connection; possibly an effect from the flu (or whatever it was that laid me out all weekend).

The most memorable segment was when I felt the pulse at my jugular and my blood felt crunchy as it flowed under my fingers. This worried me, and I immediately had a heart attack. Naturally, the room full of people was suddenly empty, so I had to pound madly on my own chest to get my heart started again. Then I was trying to fix a relative's computer, which for some reason kept switching between two logged-on accounts every few seconds. I got up to get a screwdriver and suddenly I was in the elevator of my office building, but the doors opened onto the top floor of another building downtown, and I was distressed because every time I tried to get to my office, I ended up in another part of town. Thence I made my way to my apartment (which looked suspiciously like one of my dorm rooms in college) and discovered that my clothes were laying out on my bed, which was disturbing because I'd been out and about all day. Then I was in a dimly-lit aquarium with video games interspersed among the fish tanks (sort of a cross between the Tampa Bay Aquarium and DisneyQuest), surrounded by people who looked familiar but whose identities I couldn't remember.

And all that was just from one nine-minute cycle between presses of the snooze button. For some reason, I didn't feel terribly rested when I got up.