Monday, December 15, 2008
Any dream interpreters out there? Because early this morning, I think I topped my earlier weirdest dream of making Wilford Brimley cry with one that involved dying supermodels and decapitation. So in my dream, I was working at a MASH-type tent hospital, which had been set up to quarantine supermodels dying of some mysterious disease. I worked for what seemed like half the day, matching medical records to supermodels. Then I thought to ask someone, "Won't I get sick from being around these people?" "Noooo," the person who was apparently my boss said, scoffing. "YOU will be fine." I helped two more supermodels before I realized this was an insult. I walked off the job in a huff, and went home, where I climbed into bed. Then the alarm went off. I got up to look out the window, just in time to see some random guy chopping wood in front of our not particularly wooded yard. Then Chad Allen came with a big knife and a maniacal look, and cut the guy's head off. Then the alarm went off for real. So I ask: What does this mean?