Chased out of my own head

It's 2:30am, and I don't want to go back to sleep.  I was snoozing along quite nicely, dreaming I was in some sort of desert place with family and nice scenery.  Then there was a pile of snakes and a big nasty one tried to climb into the pocket of my sweatshirt.  And that's where I left that "version" of me: with a snake in my pocket -- not thrilled about leaving the reptile there, but short of good options about how to remove it without getting bitten.

I woke with a shock.   I tried to lie back down, but my mind raced with how to remove a zip-front sweatshirt and get my arms out without disturbing the pocket contents.

Perhaps if I take the time to boot up the computer and write this entry, I'll then "forget" about it and decide that I want to try sleeping again.  Perhaps I can petition for a change of venue.or something.  It is my dream, afterall: it's pretty rummy if I can't even direct the action, eh?

Where are my just-plain-nice dreams?  Do I just wake up contended with those, letting them relax back into the pool of my self-conscious without another thought?  It seems like somewhere on the bell curve of my dreams, there should be at least a few that I wake up saying, "Wow, that was amazing!"

I can't think of any.  Let's try again now that I've conveniently forgot what drove me to this.  If only I hadn't written it at the top of this page.  Maybe this is one entry I don't have to proofread before publishing...

I think that's a gooj plann.