Sit on my face and tell me that you love me

I love Ziggy Stardust to death, but having two pounds of kitten plant itself right on my face to go to sleep does not bode well for ME getting any sleep. Or being able to breathe. I am allergic to cats. I move him to my side or my stomach; he squirms away and plants himself right back on my face. Eventually I got him to compromise by curling up under my chin, though it is hard to sleep with a cat licking your eyelids and shoving his furry flanks right up in your nose. I don't know why he was so affectionate last night.

Today, of course, I pick him up to cuddle him, and he worms away and runs under the bed. Whatever. He's getting so big.

I've consistently been having nightmares again the past few nights. I wake up in a cold sweat, shaking, realize I was dreaming, and feel utterly crushed. Every time I have to make a phone call in my dreams, especially if time is of the essence, my heart is pounding, my fingers are shaking, and I can never, ever, ever dial the right number. It's been a recurring theme here and there as long as I can remember, but it's been a prominent motif in my dreams for the past week.

I hate it when people want to get in my space and want to re-arrange my room without any of my input. I am very particular about my personal space. I know they mean well, but it still irks me.