Feeling: rueful
Listening to: silence
Reading/Watching: Charmed & Tarzan

It is a strange feeling, waking up in a dark room and not knowing where you are.

It happens, sometimes. The first thing I do when I move to a new place is put up my posters and knicknacks (before I unpack my clothes, my Waterhouses are on the wall), so that if I wake in the middle of the night, I will know where I am. When traveling with my family in hotel rooms and the like, I usually open my eyes and look around to see the familiar squished-up faces of my brothers, sister, parents, sleeping like tumbled potatoes in surrounding beds or sleeping bags.

This time, I awoke to pitch-black hotel room, nothing familiar, and strange backs-of-heads in the beds around me. I stiffened and gasped, the instinctive panic coming over me, and suddenly one of the faces turned, looked, squinted at me, disgruntled, and the vice in my chest released when I recognized Geoff, and memory flooded back: we were in Conroe, on our way to RenFest.

I felt slightly sheepish, attempting a weak smile that I don't think even lifted the corners of my mouth, my heart still realizing it didn't need to hammer in fear.

I lay back down, thinking, This is going to be a long night.

Prophetic, in a way, if you read the previous entry.

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