I am a very heavy sleeper.
I don't mean heavy sleeper as in I don't always acknowledge the phone, or I hit Snooze once or twice before hauling myself out of bed. I mean heavy sleeper as I could blithely slumber through an exchange of nuclear weapons.
As in I literally slept through the majority of a Megadeth concert. When I was still in marching band, it was not uncommon for me to doze in the back of my pickup while a drumline warmed up ten feet away.
I have my clock/radio/alarm set to the only thing that will penetrate my coma-- the local Mexican talk radio station. For whatever reason, something about a man gibbering on in rapid-fire Spanish will have me out of bed in no time.
This morning, El Guapo was talking about the moon. I did not catch exactly what he was on about, but I heard the word
luna repeatedly.
I would not have found this odd, had I not spent the majority of the night dreaming about Professor Lupin.
And, I don't know if it was the dream, the morning wake up call, or both, but for the rest of the day, the repeater tower for all that is weird and strange, otherwise known as my brain, was stuck on the
All Remus, All The Time channel, for the remainder of the day.
He was everywhere, today. Lurking in the corner of my mind, hovering just in my periphery vision. I would not have minded, had be been *quiet*.
But he was not.
He kept intruding on my thoughts, filling up my brain with plotbunnies and dialogue snippets and angsty internal monologues delivered in the general direction of Azkaban or at James and Lily's grave.
*sigh*