Was having bad dreams still--the most bizarre images included:
1) lions and tigers and bears (I shit you not) rumbling around in muzzles;
2) having to dismantle some kind of interface and doing so by ripping buttons numbered 6 and 8 completely out of the wall;
3) sitting at a table eating Chinese with old high school friends until a drinking straw sprouts spinning razors and kills one of them. We are spies, by the way;
4) Stephen King appears incognito as the leader of the resistance (again: not going to ask;
5) the "resistance" being lined up, one by one, and handed the instrument of destruction--a clear pink plastic tube, I don't know--and voluntarily offing themselves...one by one;
6) being chased through a building that turned from a school to a church basement to a shaolin temple (don't ask--I'm not going to) to a Wal-Mart to a labyrinth;
and then I woke up. I have no idea why all my dreams over the last several months have involved me trying to run and/or hide from something.
This morning I was having better dreams, though--less sinister over all. Something about people in teapot boats and Harry Potter trying to check out a book at the library while minding a babysitting charge (serves me right for reading Fandom Wank late into the night). But at least I wasn't being chased or shot with pink plastic.