Last night I dreamed in Twitter.
I think I'm the first person to do this. I want a medal.
My dream was nothing more than my Twitter page, refreshing now and again, popping up with answers to What are you doing?
I can't even tell you what people were doing or saying or writing, but either I'm spending too much time on the damn thing (I'm rarely on it, so it's doubtful), or my brain is telling me I need to figure it out and make the most of it with following and tagging and all that fun stuff.
Or not.
2 comments:
My dreams are always bad ones. I am always running (not in the sense of how you run), but running away or fighting with someone or something. Always running and fighting! I kick ass too when I fight! Or hiding. I don't know why I am always running away, then hiding from a bad dude then fighting his or her evil ass. Oh, and my teeth break or fall out sometimes too. That's the one I hate the most!
I have never dreamed in Twitter, but for the amount of updates I compose in my head I've thought about getting a crackberry. Then realize peole generally don't care what I'm thinking all of the time.
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