Psychic Alarm

While I was drifting in that mysterious plane between consciousness and sleep, I got the oddest sense of deja vu and that familiar feeling that someone I know is in trouble. It is now an hour before dawn, and while the rest of the world slumbers I am fretting over an unknown problem. It annoys me, yet worries me all the same. The instant the feeling hit me, I fired off an SMS to Yushaa, which in retrospect, was a very stupid move. I don't know yet which person I know is in trouble, or even if this sensation is legit, but...believe you me, the sensation would have had to be extremely strong for me to have acted on it. It's odd, and now I suspect I will have to wait until the sun is high in the sky (the time when I am usually asleep) before the problem reveals itself. I never was good at the waiting game. *muses* I suppose I shall have to take what rest I can now, before the day's activites whisk me away. My game with Kenneth has calmed me down somewhat, and I believe the problem will arise soon and perhaps I may be needed to assist, but until then I can do nothing except rest my weary spirit. I am now vehemently sick of The Phantom Of The Opera, and the next person who even hums that tune shall die a violent, gruesome death worthy of the phantom himself. *grim* I know I cannot sleep with my mind in such an uproar, but still I have to try. My day today will extend far beyond normal limits, and if I find myself agreeable, I shall be home quite late. Therefore I need my rest, before I find myself to be another zombie among the mass of humanity that will surround me later. *tilts head* Although, you know...I find energy to be so prevalent in such crowds, that I fancy it is almost a tangible entity. Alas, I have no feel for the game, and I shall be going as an observer, one uninitiated into the ways of such a sport. Perhaps I can subsist on the veritable electricity that will charge the very air in Kallang Stadium tonight...if, that is, I am not busy drooling over possibly cute players. And if I get enough sleep, which I highly doubt at this point in time. The night is so fleeting...where has all that time gone to? Dawn has arrived. In between typing out this entry, fretting over something I cannot explain, playing and talking to Kenneth, morning has snuck up on me and now I find myself weary, yet still unable to rest. A mind-cracking migraine has begun its throbbing, and unless the sandman comes now, the general public will find me extremely cranky and sharper than usual. It is already six, and in the distance, the skies are lightening from a deep velvet blue to streaks of pink. Yet I am still typing as if I have nothing else to do! Ah, I give up. I will not be able to sleep anyway. A note in parting...I am surprised by how deeply people in general can blind themselves to what they simply refuse to see. It never fails to astound me, this self-induced blindness. *sighs* The birds have already started their morning call, cacophonous as it is. And for once, I have not observed the night! This realisation startles me...very well. I have to go and conceal my nocturnal nature now that it is time the world wakes up. I really can't decide what set my alarm bells ringing.
Why is Latin so favoured by practitioners of the black arts? Simple. Use a dead language to summon spirits.