nadiathesaint: (when I awoke)
After her nap in Foreign Lit and falling asleep outside Artie's porta-home, Nadia has come to the conclusion that she can sleep dream free all she wants, just so long as she's not sleeping in her own bed.

This, of course, is ridiculous; odds are good that the reason for her pleasant naps was due to having stayed up until she was too exhausted to remember any dreams she might have had. But Nadia is fifteen going on sixteen (sing it with me!) and doesn't always reason things out using Earth logic.

As a result of her likely erroneous conclusion, Nadia is curled up on the couch in the fifth floor common room under her blanket, and happily snoring away.

[ooc: feel free to use for your fifth floor common room needs (whatever those might be, you dirty, dirty freaks). I'm almost always willing to torture my poor character more]
nadiathesaint: (eh?)
The term "sleep walking" implies both sleeping and walking, neither of which Nadia was doing, so it shouldn't really have applied.

The fact that she'd had another restless night of bizarro dreams and had thus been up since 4 AM meant that the term "awake" couldn't really apply to her, either.

She had been sitting up on the couch in the common room, wrapped in her blanket, and watching TV for a few hours now, and had come to the conclusion that Bitterwoman would have been much less bitter if she were allowed to wear pants, that AKA's writers had to be on the good drugs, and that rabbits and ducks were natural enemies, but they really, really should have teamed up against that hunter instead of arguing with each other.

She's currently watching a rather bizarre show for toddlers involving giant, brightly colored creatures that danced around and repeated things to the point of causing them to lose all meaning, and possibly discovering the meaning of life through their antics.

Somewhere in the back of her head she realizes she should probably go to her classes today, but she'll worry about that, later.
nadiathesaint: (skicap)
3 AM isn't a pleasant hour to be on the wrong side of. Neither is 4 AM, 5AM, 6 AM. . . .

Nadia has tried several times now to get some decent sleep in, and it's not happening. Everytime she goes to sleep she has a fun new wacky dream that wakes her up, sometimes shaking, once halfway across her own room.

She wasn't entirely sure why Professor MacGyver swooping to the rescue with a manual pencil sharpener had made her sleep walk; that was probably one of the most mundane images that she remembers from the dreams. She hadn't had a decent sleep since the nap she took on the third floor.

She's been on the wrong side of sunrise more times than she can count, just not since she came to Fandom. So she climbed up to the roof, where she's sitting on the edge, wrapped in her blanket and listening to music, watching the sunrise.

[ooc: open to interaction if anyone else thinks their character might be up and on the roof at this hour. . . .]
nadiathesaint: (when I awoke)
The walk from the third floor common room to her dorm room on the fifth floor took approximately seven years, and involved a lot of thrilling adventures, new found friends and enemies, talking animals, fantastic creatures, literary allusions, metaphors for common place rites of passage, and three comings of age.

Well, no, actually it took approximately five minutes and involved a lot of leaning against the wall and limping. But it sounds much more exciting the other way.

Whatever it involved, it did, eventually, come to an end as Nadia flopped over onto her bed and went to sleep. And dreamed. )

She woke up screaming, gasping for breath, and clutching Furrball in the air in front of her.

Furrball licked her nose again. "Mew."

She lay back down with a groan. She had to talk to someone about these dreams.

[ooc: yes. I do have too much fun with dream imagery. What of it? If anyone has a burning desire to talk to Nadia, they are welcome to do so here.]
nadiathesaint: (beaten)
Nadia sat up on her bed with all the lights off and the stick-thing from Granny Weatherwax clutched in her not-burned hand. The play script sat on the bed in front of her.

Furrball lay curled on the play script.

Nadia glowered at the stick. Her head was feeling ever so slightly better thanks to Granny's tea, but it was still all achy, and she still wasn't allowed to go to sleep. Pippi had promised to help her stay up when she finished up at Fight Club and had made her promise not to try and take a nap while she was gone, so she was very dutifully staying awake until it was time to go over to Pippi's.

And doing a lot of glaring.

She glanced at the clock and sighed. It was that time again. She shut her eyes and shook the stick.

*poot*

"Graggla Graggla Gree," she said, with as much dignity as she could muster. Then: "Dammit!"

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nadiathesaint

July 2007

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