#318 – Marlton Trip
Shut your mouths, you know you like to put on silly hats in stores just as much.
So I had, yet again, another disturbing dream last night. It has thrown me for a ride, to say the least. It’s not one of my recurring ones (those involve someone shooting me in the stomach), but it does feature the recurring giant-man in it that doesn’t like to speak and would rather spend his time staring me down until I am nothing more than a shriveled piece of pale flesh.
In the dream, the featureless figure is already in my apartment, standing in the corner by my bookshelf, watching me, slowly inching his way towards my bed. Me, in the dream, knows all of this. I also, somehow, know that I’m dreaming because I’m thinking these thoughts: Ai! Wake up! Wake wake wake wake wake uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup!
Alas, I do not wake up immediately. No, the figure shuffles closer, his hand outstretched as if to pluck my very heart from my heaving chest, and I begin with the sputtering. It feels as if my lips are made of lead, and I can barely get a word out. G-g-g-g-g-g, I go. Finally, when I do get the whole thing out, that’s the moment I wake up. I recall the word I was so desperately trying to force out as gwah. Whatever that is. Time on the clock? 5:46 A.M. Greeeeeeeeeat.
Feck a healthy breakfast this morning. I woke up later than usual, I’m feeling creeped out, and I’m going to enjoy the blazes out of a toasted bagel with buttah.
Gwah. Happy Monday.