bad dream

I just had a bad dream. The kind where you wake up all "fight or flight" and you have to go check the house because you are sure the bogeyman broke in . . . of course the dream didn't make any sense, but I still have anxiety in the pit of my stomach.

I figured surfing would calm me down, but I really would like to go to bed.

And I really would like to live with someone. Yes, I would have to clean more. But times like these, it would be comforting to have someone else here . . . waiting with me to be killed. You know, for company.

And every horror movie I've seen in the last year is playing in my head, which is why I don't watch horror movies. Damn that photographic memory thing. I suppose I could get up, dress, comb my Tinkerbell hair and go to breakfast . . . cause I can't shower . . . everyone gets killed in the shower . . . and because no one wants to kill you at a coney island at 5 a.m. . . . but I really just want to go back to bed. After I check under it, of course. Then I'll curl up with my mag light (the heavy 4 d cell one) for another hour of sleep. And scare the shit out of myself if it drops on the floor.

Gonna be a great day, right?