(Obviously written a few days ago, only posted now)

Another night train entry. It has been a long day of trains and I chose to do it sober. I am on the bottom of three.The two other girls are sisters from London, both very sweet. I hate the bottom (bunk). I’m a little claustrophobic, I might wake up the entire train screaming sometime during the night. My mid-night night-terrors usually follow with my torso swiftly and abruptly moving into an upright position, as if I am hinged directly in half. Suddenly pushed up, and staring forward I will simply scream as loud as my lungs go. If that were to happen, I would most certainly nail my head on the second bunk causing the bed to move and in end throwing one of the sweet Brit sisters to the train floor. This would of course waken the older sister and seeing her younger sister fall to her demise, will reach out to catch her from the top bunk- of course sending herself reeling to the ground after. --and yes this is normally how my brain works, and yes, it is always this entertaining.

I used to have night screaming moments like this all the time when living in the house on Saint Paul Street. It was the house Phil and I lived in before we bought our first place. It was really only there. It was incredibly unusual. I also had recurring dreams of this massive spider that used to live in our bedroom and would just eat and get fat. I had of course decided it was a spiritual thing.  I would wake Phil up almost weekly, if not nightly, screaming my head off. I’d find myself sitting up, my hands in the air, or stiff by my side, screaming at the top of my lungs. -Or crying, sometimes I’d wake myself up crying. It started to annoy Phil. It was difficult. I couldn’t help what was happening in my sleep, but it pissed the hell out of him. When we first moved to that house he worked nights and it always happened right when he was coming to bed, I would sit up and just scream at him. He got so mad--that kind of made me laugh thinking about it. Poor guy, works a crappy night shift, arrives home at four in the morning only to be greeted by his darling wife screaming her head off at him. 

Anyways, that was a random story to share. But this does feel like a night where my subconscious might feel threatened from the seemingly growing-smaller-each-minute enclosed space I am in. --I’ll try not to think about it.

I have no idea what Croatia has in store for me. I have no idea how much money I withdrew from my credit card either. It was 800 of something. I don’t even know what they call their currency. -I am such a terrible tourist, I don’t know the language croatians speak let alone their word for thank-you or hello. That’s another thing about me, I am extremely lazy and refuse to do or learn anything I am not going to use in a significant way after. I have a hard enough time maintaining and utilizing the information I need on a daily basis, let alone a few words for a week of my life. I am completely uninterested in knowing little bits of things in something I will never think about again. It makes for a horrible Trivial Pursuit player as well. 

Well I think I will try to sleep. I get in at 6:30 in the morning. I will be picked up by my host, a stranger in a red car, at sometime in the morning. well until next time. sweet dreams world.