Monday, December 20, 2010

A Victim of My Own Imagination

My sub-conscience is out to get me. It's true! I've had the most bizarre dreams, and each one ends up sort of scary.

A couple of nights ago I dreamed that I was leaving work and lesbian zombies attacked me. Then all these people that I knew turned into zombies and I was trapped on the seventh floor of the CS building wishing my phone worked so I could call for help...

The night before last I dreamed that Nathan turned into a cheetah between 6 pm and 6 am. Rachel kept thinking Nathan was her boyfriend and got all mad at me when he kissed me. And then there was this basketball team (that I'm sure would suck if they were real). They were all MASSIVE! I don't mean extremely tall, I mean extremely HUGE! They all had to weigh like 600 pounds...per inch. And they were mean! One of them (the biggest one) kept picking on me. It was so terrible. That doesn't sound terrible, but it was!

And then last night I dreamed that I was getting ready for my photo final with Reese. There were maybe seven kids in my class, and I was the only girl. We went out to this weird little forest place that happened to be on UVU campus. My classmates and I were standing in a semi circle while Reese talked to us. He gave us instructions and told us to go shoot a man. My dream edited the part where we actually did the shooting. But when everyone came back they each had a bag with a man in it. They literally SHOT a man. I came back with a nice portrait. Someone shot two men so they lent me one. I nearly died right there. I dropped the bag and started to yell at Reese for assigning something so terrible. He just laughed and told me we hadn't even started the test yet. The test was to dismantle each dead man and reassemble him inside out. All the guys started on it, but I refused to. I decided that taking a bad grade was a lot better than mutilating some man. As I walked away the lights dimmed (yes, we were outside, but my dreams play out like movies, so lights dim outside too). I turned around and Reese was telling us horror stories that were by some author named James Cameron. He wrote really terrible novels about kids who watch their parents die... I told him he was a sick pervert and he told me I was a wimp. I started to walk away through the mini forest. I heard something behind me, without turning around I knew it was those poor inside-out, dead men... They came to life and were trying to eat me...

I have no idea where my mind gets these ideas. I don't even like murder mysteries! Or mutilating people... I'm almost too scared to fall asleep. STUPID IMAGINATION!

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