The weird dreams just keep on coming. Friday night brought an epic saga that made me wish I had any kind of fiction writing talent because on a scale of 1-10, the level of strangeness was 11+. I know there’s nothing more boring than reading about other people’s dreams, but if you’re into secret alien colonies that are trying to impregnate unsuspecting women who they then turn into procreating zombies, let me know and I’ll be happy to elaborate.
I’m not sure what was scarier—-being hunted down by strange dream men who wanted me to bear their alien progeny, braving the Burlington Mall on Saturday or surviving the chaos of Stop&Shop last night. Somebody give me some eggnog (or a caramel crème latte from Dunkin’ Donuts spiked with…anything) because I’m not sure I can deal with the whirlwind that is the holidays. This is supposed to be a time of thankfulness and familial warmth, but the idea of dealing with people in any way, shape or form right now makes me want to hide.