Underwear in the Mornings

When I was little, I had the very strong belief that there was something under my bed and more under my dresser. Occasionally I would decide to make up a big, comfy bed on the floor of my room - thinking it an ideal way to have a sleep-over with myself - only to find out when the lights went off that there was now the possibilities of the creepy, dark thing under my dresser of getting at me more easily. It was not a pleasant feeling.

The thing under my dressing really had no shape; it was just this big, dark shadow that could slink out and fluid, mist-like motions and wrap itself around me to drag me under the dresser. Have you ever seen Little Nemo in Dreamland? It would be like the thing in that but less like mud, and more like plain pitch black.

Unlike the thing under my dresser, the thing under my bed was an actual thing. I usually imagined a brown-red, bandaged mummy hand sneaking out to drag me under whenever I fell out of bed and didn't get back in quick enough, or when coming back to bed in the dark and not jumping onto my bed quick enough.

Which is what happened last night. Well, no, I did not get snatched at by creatures under my bed. When I was feeling my way through the darkness of my room on the way back from the bathroom, as I neared my bed I got the instinctive feeling to jump the last few inches into my bed so as to avoid getting sucked below it.

Needless to say, I did not have any troubles and was very relieved to find myself safely in my bed.

This then prompted me to text Kyle [at 2am] to tell him what had happened because honestly how many times do you think there's a monster under your bed when you're hitting the end of adolescence? - plus I was wide awake and thought Kyle would appreciate the story if he managed to sleep through the text alert and read it in the morning [which he did not, I got a groggy response about how he loved me and was glad no one was actually under my bed; this is why I love my man].

In other news, I woke up this morning after many dreams but quite tired [I still didn't fall asleep until after 3] and am now pondering what to wear to my painting critique/to life in general that isn't Kyle's shirt that he left here [and I've been basically living in ever since]. This dilemma is one of the things that makes me typically a girl: I can never decide what to wear.

Sigh.