Don’t say a word

The ending to my dream this morning was me driving over to my Life Partner’s office to meet her for lunch. To get into the building, I needed a badge, not just a name tag. There was a guy behind the camera and a girl directing me to sit behind these sepia-toned army toys. Then she directed me to strike a pose. Then another and another until I was giggling. They told me that to enter, they had to tag me, so the guy shoved an Epipen style needle into my arm. Then the girl said she had some painkillers to make up for that and so she injected me with another needle full of liquid. I thought to myself, I don’t have any pain! Oh, shit, sodium pentathol! Nooooo! Not the Secrets!

I tried to escape and instead woke up.

Good night all, and sweet dreams!


One response to this post.

  1. Your dreams both entertain me, and frighten me. It’s actually reassuring to know that you don’t need pot or meth for your brain to have these intensely creative (and at times very disturbing) dreams. I also appreciate that you share these dreams with your readers. Keep writing. It rocks.


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