Have you ever watch Paranormal State on TV and Ryan will say, "we are now going into the witching hour", which is supposedly 3:00 AM. So being the ever scardy cat that I am, I try not to "be awake" during that time.
Welcome to last night. Had to get up at 3 because, well, my toilet was calling my name. Had to go see what in the hell it was making all that racket about. Stumbled back into bed, and started thinking, great, it's the witching hour. Makes it kind of hard to go back to sleep. After what felt like FOREVER, I began dreaming. If you have any suggestions as to what you think it all means, let me know. Unless all you have to say is, Dazee, you are weird. This I already know.
At first, I was sleeping, in a bed, at a neighbors house, on their deck. I hear dogs barking but not enough to wake me up. All of the sudden, without hearing my phone ring, or me answering it, I hear one of my friend's voices calling out. DAZEE, DAZEE, CAN YOU HEAR ME, DAZEE, WHERE ARE YOU. Grab my phone, start talking and then she was like, "just calling to see if you are ok". Umm, yeah, except you woke me up. Sit up in bed, it is light outside all of the sudden, look over the deck and there is carnage below.
Dead dogs are everywhere. Packs of different breeds. Guts hanging out. Some dogs not dead just roaming. I'm freaking out. Call Mr. Dazee, scream that there are dead dogs and I'm scared to come home. He tells me to buck it up and come home.
Because in dreamland, you flit from one place to another, I was home. Going to take a shower. Had to walk through one toilet room (I know, huh), to get to the other "real" bathroom. As I go to turn on the light, there is poop smeared all over the switch. Freak out, head to the sink. (I'm blaming this one on Drazil for telling us about her husbands work in the prison and what the inmates do with their poo) Damn you Drazil.
Mr. Dazee is telling me that we have to leave "right now". I'm naked. Tells me to throw a towel around me, we need to go. And because I have the Calista Flockhart body, the towel definitely fits around my body. He starts driving like a maniac. We drive through a park, on the grass, and he stops like the stunt drivers do, in front of a gun store. We go in. He starts giving shit to the owners. Tells me, they won't sell me a rifle. They start telling him to calm down. They were going to sell him a gun, I just needed to be there with him. Yeah, because, I have my ID with me, hidden somewhere on my body, while trying to keep the towel around me. They were also selling guns to young boys. Like 12 year olds. But they were giving Mr. Dazee shit.
And then my alarm really did go off. I couldn't get out of bed. Laid there for quite a while trying to make sense of everything that had just happened. I feel like I spent the night at a movie theater. I'm tired.
Please discuss amongst yourselves, and let me know what you think. Ok, I give you permission to tell me I'm a whack job. Just be nice about it. :)