I hate them. This morning, I woke at 5:43am because I had a particularly nasty one. I dreamt I was being ripped to shreds, chewed alive, and when I woke in a cold sweat I found my whole body aching like I was in pain. It was horrible. I couldn't settle last night, worried about Chris. He's been down in the dumps the past two days because his brother is a nagging nuisance and his parents are no better. All in all I only had about 4 hours sleep. I couldn't settle this morning. After I woke up I texted Chris, see if he was alright. He must've been psychic or something because he knew something was wrong. I passed out with exhaustion and napped for an hour, when I woke up he'd sent a dozen worried messages. I was a moaning, sobbing wreck when we got on Skype, I couldn't stop crying. The dream had been so real, I'm just glad it wasn't. He comforted me and helped me relax, then after he fell asleep I just got up because the thought of going back to sleep was...uncomfortable to say the least.

Gah. Glad they're not real. Curse my overly wild and vivid imagination. -.-