Being kept awake, I have no doubt, contributed to the bizarre and nonsensical half-remembered dreams from this morning, the kind which ebb just enough into consciousness to make you aware that certain crtieria within said dream need to be fulfilled before you can go back to sleep completely. More often than not the dream will not fulfil the criteria and it's something of a vicious cycle. Like, for example, the feeling of having to put things away into a box, where the dream is taking things out.
I have no idea if that makes sense. Yet another situation close enough to lucid dreaming to be self-aware, whereupon I am retrospectively annoyed that I was mentally paralysed and thus unable to fly.
Paul has his interview with Solihull Council today for a proper job (as opposed to his rubbish temp job at present), though at 10.25 (10 minutes after it was due to start) he rang me to say that after finding the building, they proceeded to have a power cut... [Edit, somewhat later: he seems to think it went well, so here's hoping. Apparently they only interview four candidates out of all the applications.]
Okay, I am now going home because I've spent my entire afternoon waiting for the bloody network to react at something more than a snail's pace, and partaking in our bi-annual pointless BEST meeting. Bored now.