Sweet dreams are made of cheese?

Arrgh, my subconsious is driving me insane lately!
This past week I've been waking up several times per night from either laughing like some kind of crazy person or being on the verge of tears, whimpering.

The dreams causing this very unwanted behaviour have been various and has included some real gems, such as:

The one where I hang out on a meadow by myself, and after getting a surprise visit from the Jonas brothers I and one of the lads belt out a beautiful duet while standing under a cherry blossom that showers us with pink flower petals.
Yeah...
Yeah.

In another one (and I'm pretty sure that even just admitting to having a dream of this rather violent nature will put me on a watch list somewhere), I run around a house, sweaty and panic stricken, tracking down and shooting people (not the Jonas brothers though. I think.) Every once in a while this switches and all of a sudden I'm one of the people being shot at. It's all very confusing and it's all taking place in a vacation home in Palo Alto.
Just how exactly my subconsious knows about Palo Alto I'm not completely sure, especially since my consious self doesn't. Or at least I didn't until a quick Wikipedia search informed me that Palo Alto is indeed an actual town, located in northern Silicon Valley, California.

Which sort of makes me wonder:

Is this the point where, through a series of seizure inducing flash backs and strangely familiar dreams, my past as a murdeous CIA agent unravels? Will I discover, as someone tries to steal my purse, that I have the reflexes of a feline and a level of martial arts skills even Bruce Lee couldn't keep up with?
Is that what's gonna happen? Will I discover that all my memories are not mine at all (and if so, can I just say "Good riddance, memories of puberty and general teen awkwardness!") but inplanted in my brain to... uh... protect the... uh... secrets of the CIA..?

Wouldn't they just kill me for that?
And where in all this does the third dream, the one where I binge eat wheels of cheddar cheese, fit in to all of this..?

Soon to be a respectable part of society..?

Knowing myself and knowing that before 11 am, even at the best of times I move with the speed of a sloth, I decided to get up at 6.35 am this morning in order to be ready to catch my 8.32 am train and make it to my interview while not also resembling a sloth in matters of physical appearance.

As a result I have felt nauseous and had a blinding headache all day. I believe this to be my body's way of telling me "what the fehk you wanna job for when you can just laze around at home eating cheese all day? huh?" Which just goes to show exactly how well my rather eloquently gifted body knows me.

I hear you body.
Loud and clear.

Anyway.
Interview went well.

Or, at least I think it did though I really can't be too sure about the accurateness of this statement since the man interviewing me looked like he could be Simon Baker's long lost and even more handsome twin and for some reason the somewhat rose coloured memory of the interview is strangely distorted by a loud voice in my head chanting "must not forget I'm engaged, must not forget I'm engaged". For all I know this can also have been said out loud in which case I'm pretty sure I won't be getting the job.

Turns out, acting like a big pile of crazy isn't on most employer's list of desired qualities in job applicants. I'm saying most, because really, who knows? If I was a British production company specializing in making documentaries about sexually deviant behaviour that will then be shown on a weekly basis on basic cable in Sweden for example, a certain amount of crazy probably would be on the desired qualities list.
I'd say.
But hey, what do I know.