You know those sleeps you are very glad to wake up from? I have only just emerged from one of them and am still recovering from the utter silliness of the straight-to-video action movie dream. It may well be the documentary shortly before hitting the sheets, about a kidnapped American by Abu Sayyaf, that sent my subconscious into turbulence. As though concocted by someone hellbent on exacting the coldest possible revenge for something I did to him, it involved my colleagues from the office, who although I have no bad feelings for, still make for awkward characters for my siestic hallucinations.
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