I usually am not much of a dream-rememberer. I awake with fleeting images of what took place in my subconscious, and by the time I enter the shower five minutes later, those images are gone completely.
Last night, however, I had a terrifying nightmare that I remember frame-by-frame. I have transcribed it into story form, taking care not to embellish wherever possible. I wish I could say I was making this up, but I certainly did not. This isn’t exactly an award-winning piece of storytelling, as the melodrama is nigh-suffocating, but it’s what my crazy-ass subconscious managed to come up with. Without further ado… Continue reading
This morning, I was going about my daily routine, packing my bag and brushing my teeth, when I happened to look up, where I noticed a FREAKING centipede clinging to my ceiling.
This is the dramatization (in screenplay format) of my ordeal.
We open on our HERO, a young, dashing twentysomething. He’s in the process of getting ready for work, eyes still a bit bleary from the alarm that recently went off, waking him from a particularly entertaining dream. He’s freshly showered and dressed, brushing his teeth in an endearing fashion: one hand working the brush and one attempting to pack his messenger bag. He heads back into the bathroom to spit and rinse. Continue reading