No, really. Dead. Which made it less funny. As did the bit where my mother came to see how I was doing and I lost it, I grabbed at her and dug my nails in and said please, please take me home, please, this is horrific and I can't stay, please please please. And she wouldn't.
This morning I have a theory lesson. One, short, informal, harmless theory lesson. But this is what that dream was about. And I'm glad I have to leave the house now, because otherwise I'd be doing myself some serious damage. Fuck. I really hate being me. I really hate it.