Last night I had a dream

that was pretty violent.  I have a lot of adventure/quest dreams, and a lot of running away from evil people dreams.  I blame it on Bond movies, Bourne movies, LOTR, and all of the fantasy books I read growing up.  And yes, I’m being that girl, the one who blogs about stuff that only goes on in her head and therefore has no relevance to the reader’s life.  And now I’m that other girl, the one who interrupts her own post in a semi-desperate attempt to assure you that my material is relevant and will you please still like me?

In my dream, I ended up with the bad guy’s head in my hands and I gave several quick snaps, trying to break his neck like a chicken. I succeeded. This has shaken me up a bit.  I know dreams aren’t reality, but it was still me, and I was still barehandedly murdering this fellow.  I’m taking my perturbedness as a good sign: only non-sociopaths have regret over these things.

But dreams.  Pretty interesting things.  I love it when they dig up old faces/friends from the past that you haven’t thought about in months.  I always want to write them and tell them that I had a dream about them and they were wearing this and this and doing such and such and were nude only part of the time when they were leading the mice army into the giant bowl of cream of wheat.  I’m almost positive there’s a (necessary) social taboo on telling someone you don’t know very well that they had a starring role in your dream last night.  For example, I was talking to a man the other day who told me his boss had once told him she’d had a dream about him.  In which she killed him.  This, I suppose, is better than her simply telling her she had a dream about him and then smiling to herself.

Through the amazing site Stumbleupon, I have discovered a beautiful photo of the McNaught Comet.  This photo was taken by Antti Kemppainen on a beach in Australia in 2007.  You’re going to want to click on this photo.


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