The other week I dreamt -
For some reason, I was living in the poorly furnished upper floor of a house owned by a (former) committee member and her husband, so I didn't have to have living expenses and so I could focus on the final "dotting the 'i's and crossing the 't's" of my dissertation.
Having already lived there for several weeks and on the verge of moving out and going back to my own apartment, I come back and my mom's there downstairs and there's a dirty mattress on the floor up in my room that I somehow know is there, and my mom says that the committee member found it in the alley and brought it back up.
"But there's probably bed bugs on it!", I'm like.
"I know," she was like, "I kept telling her, but she just wouldn't listen to me."
And then we talk about how the bedbugs might have migrated into my belongings that were mostly in a backpack in the room but otherwise scattered out a bit here and there in there, and how that's probably going to cause problems for me now.
After a bit of stress, I realize that I can probably put all my belongings in a rubberband-closed garbage bag, segregate them at my new apartment, and then do necessary treatments to get rid of any bed bugs that may have crawled out from the mattress and into my stuff...
And then I wake up.
Sunday, May 21, 2017
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