Had a bad morning. Slept only four hours again…kept waking up, thinking something was crawling on me…
I dreamt grisly dreams. First, that I was at work and gave an employee instructions, the last bit of which was a warning that I would have to shoot him if he did not do exactly as he was told…and I left for a while, and came back, and I was about to come around the corner, but I stopped and listened and I knew that he was messing around and not doing what he’d been told…and I really didn’t want to shoot him, so I was just sort of hovering around that corner, not sure of what I should do…
And then–and I have no idea what was the deal with this dream–someone else came to find me, and told me that another employee had elected to be a sacrifice (what? to the theatre gods?), and that they’d already taken care of it.
How? Oh, by steamrolling over that employee.
And I didn’t see it, but my dream-self was picturing it in our mind, and it was pretty grisly. I woke up remembering a bit of a movie I saw, where the main action in the scene is somewhere else, but in the frame you can still see someone getting run over…and they kind of…burst… *shudder*
So, yeah. Dreaming about executing people and sacrificing to the deity of popcorn and steamrollers. That sounds like me. Except that for as vague as this dream was (vague enough that I knew I was dreaming), the suggestion of something bloody and horrible stayed with me. All the way into the parking lot.
So many stupid people were out on the road today, and the closer I was getting to where I had my accident in May, the more upset I felt. Like…those same vague impressions of gory violence kept presenting themselves to me…like, “hey, wanna think about all the terrible ways you can die in an accident?”
No. No, I don’t. Thanks.
But my imagination doesn’t work that way. It’s more like…on one hand, I’m trying to drive, and pleading with my Wolf self to stop thinking about this stuff, and on the other hand, he is trying and trying to plug up wherever these thoughts are pouring out of, and can’t…and then he panics, and we just kind of go to pieces and are shaking when we finally park.
My GM was joking about me having some ptsd going on. Maybe that’s not funny after all, eh?
Or maybe I’ve always tended toward morbid thoughts, and now I just happen to have an unpleasant personal experience to throw into the mix. *shrug*
Or, maybe I am afflicted with a phobia of morning commutes, because I don’t really get nervous like this when I am driving in the afternoon or at night…I think I gotten the general impression that people are much stupider in the morning, too.
I just don’t want to die. I do not. Certainly not because someone is running late to work or something dumb.
…you think other people say that to themselves? Say again and again when they are out, “maybe this is the day that I die because someone else is a dumbass”.
Because that is what I am saying in my head, even as I let my Wolf boast to people that we cannot be killed.