Call Me Psychotic!


Unlike some people I know – I don’t remember my dreams all that often. However, when I do remember them – – they are SO strange, I am usually unwilling to admit to them because they are psychotic and make me worry about my own psyche. Like – – am I really that deranged and just don’t know it yet??

The last time I blogged a dream that I remembered vividly – it was a dooozer!.

Last night? My dream went something like this:

My daughter brought home a friend. I only remember sitting at the kitchen table with my daughter, her friend, Chris and myself. Sometime between dinner courses – Chris, Melissa (my daughter) and I decided to kill her friend. So, we did.

But it gets better, really. We behead the girl and then Chris performs surgery on me – putting my head on the dead girl’s body. The recovery time was remarkably quick – because I was up and gardening the next day with my new body.

Now, the body – – it wasn’t really any different than the one I already had. There was one distinct problem though…. the BOOBS! I’m a 38-DD. This new body was about a 38-B.

I was devastated – so we decided that I needed a boob job.

Anyways, in between all of this – we’re trying to hide the fact that WE were the last known people who saw this girl alive last… and we’re trying to throw off speculation that WE were the ones that killed her. We’re meeting with her folks – – and I remember hoping really hard that they wouldn’t notice I had their daughters body on….cursing myself that I should have gotten the boob job FIRST, then met with her parents afterwards.

While all of this is going on – – there was also a frantic search for my car keys.

No, really – you can say it. I’m deranged and probably belong institutionalized somewhere, eh?

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