I think it's a hint from my deeper cortex of my brain that I am due for a holiday. It is also playing out my underlying anxiety that I won't get a long glorious holiday.
Perhaps it's a sign that I shouldn't ask for that job.
or
It could just be because I read, A Town Like Paris by Bryce Corbett before I fell asleep.
Regardless, I am due for a travelling holiday, away from Perth and all it's small city charm with wonderful clean refreshing air and sunshine.
I guess, I'm just hating how everything is sure and yet so unsure - as in - I don't know where I'm heading, there are too many paths too choose from and I'm all confused and totally indecisive.
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