I’ve been having horrid dreams lately. Dreams of violence. Of people being mutilated, disemboweled. Of being caught by the person who did it, and having no escape. Of being tortured like a hapless Nazi in America. Of there being no escape.
They say that dreams are a prelude of what is to come. They also they that dreams are the subconscious of your body talking while the conscious is on vacation. I choose to believe the latter, because that is how I roll. Which means that the nasty side of me is coming out in my dreams, given that life at the moment is quite bright and sunny.
Which means….
I need something to complain about.
DRAMATIC IRONY RIGHT THERE
