I may have mentioned my severely overactive imagination from time to time. It’s one of the many factors that can make it very difficult for me to turn off my mind and go. to. sleep.
Well, one of the fixes I stumbled onto within the past few months was watching Star Wars Clone Wars. Because I’ve seen the episodes several times (for the most part), it’s just kind of background noise that fixes my mind, but doesn’t hold my attention enough to keep me awake. Good mix, right?
There were a few sweet, blissful weeks of being able to fall asleep when I felt like it.
Til Netflix did the evil, evil thing.
No more Clone Wars.
Until the Disney streaming service goes live, no more sweet, harmonious cacophony of blasters, lightsabers, and spaceship engines that I had come to count on to let me slip softly into the gentle arms of Morpheus.
Cue grinding of teeth as I try to find a replacement.
Star Wars movies are no good, I stay awake to try and watch. Rebels is no good for the same reason.
I finally started working on Marvel movies… much to Rick’s amusement. You see, for one reason or another, my first viewing of Endgame is going to be a solo run.
Rick: You know, I don’t even want to watch Endgame with you, you’re just going to fall asleep in the middle of it!
Me, rolling my eyes: Would not!
Cue long, viscerally real nightmare in which I fall asleep watching Endgame, get abducted from my car by a weirdo family of serial killers who decides to initiate their six year old daughter into the clan by having her shoot me in the damn head.
Rick denies having any responsibility for my dreams… I maintain that he planted the seed.
A helpful friend of ours, when told of the debate, rubbed his chin thoughtfully and asked Rick what the logistics would be behind packing the theater for my showing of Endgame with six year olds.
You guys see what I have to put up with?
Curiouser and Curiouser 