Mr. Lecter, meet Mr. Scissor Hands

7 Apr

My nightmares are freaky-deaky.  For reals.  Take Monday night’s nightmare:

I dreamt that I was going to join the military.  Not so bad, right?  However, before I was officially a part of the military, I had to pass a physical.  I’m a fit 20-something adult, this should be breeze.  Heck no!  At the hospital, I was told that I had breast cancer.  Great.  Now I’ll never have hands as registered weapons.  Dejected, I hopped on the hospital elevator to go home.  Sadly, on the way down, I was attacked by Anthony Hopkins.  Freak.  (Thankfully, he didn’t call me Clarice.)  He had scissors for hands and was down-right terrifying.  I died in the elevator after Anthony Hopkins had snipped me to bits.

Mmm, what a wonderful nightmare to wake up from.  Last nights nightmare was a tad more tame:

Jordan and I had won tickets to a Michael Jackson concert at a local creepy warehouse.  (In my nightmares, he’s still alive.)  Lo and behold we ended up sitting next to Jeremy Clarkson.  Heck yes!  The creepy concert was awesome.  Sadly, Jordan, Jeremy and I were gunned down during a drive-by shooting as we were leaving.  I begged Michael Jackson to help me, but he just drove away in an 80’s style white limo.  Curse you, Michael!  In the end, I had to have both of my legs amputated due to the severity of my injuries.  And the fact that the ambulance took an hour to arrive.  And because Michael Jackson left me for dead.  Great.

So, what the frak is wrong with me?  Anyone want to buy the rights to my nightmares?  Syfy would love them.


One Response to “Mr. Lecter, meet Mr. Scissor Hands”

  1. blackwatertown April 9, 2010 at 4:00 PM #

    Too much cheese at bedtime?

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