They Get Letters, We Get Nightmares


Nocturnal Natterings.
John does not remember his dreams. Me, my sleeping brain thinks it's François Truffaut one night and Wes Craven the next. I get fantastic landscapes, dizzying interiors, and then just for kicks I get horror. Note to the auteur in my head: I don't like horror.

The past several nights have been particularly cinematic. I had one of my interior dreams (I get in a hotel elevator, a glass one, and the elevator goes up - then across the lobby, past a giant, glittering chandelier, and into an elevator bank on the other side of the lobby. Paging Willy Wonka...), I had one of a series of recurring semi-nightmares about driving a vehicle with no brakes (So. Not. Fun.), and then a panicky nightmare with lots of running around, a stalker outside the house, and me frantically turning on all the lights.

It could have been worse. I had the stalker dream right after we saw Serenity. It could have been Reavers.*


* Yes, I would love to talk about Serenity. But I'm not going to. I'm not going to spoil the unspoiled.
Posted: Tuesday - October 04, 2005 at 07:49 AM         | |

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