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This WEEK, y'all!

Just horrid.

Although there have been little bright spots here and there, this week was overwhelmingly a giant failbot. At the beginning of it, we were going to have salmon for dinner. Unfortunately it turned out to have WORMS. Horrible worms. So that was nauseating and put me off meat. Also some goat cheese had unexpectedly gone really moldy. Ugh.

Later on, Patrick was trying to get to a recording gig and ended up being 40 minutes late because traffic was absolutely hideous on Hwy 99. He'd have taken I-5 but a) there was an accident on it too and b) once he'd gotten on 99 near Pioneer Square he couldn't get off. There aren't any exits except the Western Ave one, and he'd sort of gotten wedged in the tunnel. He'd left an hour and a half to get up to Bastyr, and it took him 30 minutes to move about 100 ft.

Apparently there was both an accident/crisis of some sort AND the idiotic work crews were digging in a manhole and needed to close off every lane of 99 except one. At rush hour. Who is running this shitshow? At any rate, that turned out okay although of course it was a brass-only section, so they just sat around and waited for him to get there instead of being able to start with strings or something. Of COURSE it was. /facepalm

The same night that Patrick had his traffic incident, our power was out at the house for hours. It was out for probably 3 hours before coming back on for 1.5 or so, just long enough for me to get comfortable, and then it went out again. After I'd hollered in rage and lit a bunch of candles, it came back on and stayed on, but I was so irritated at that point that I just left the candles going in case they screwed it up again. I don't know what was going on. We hadn't had any wind and not even a drop of rain. Maybe the power company forgot how electrical lines work.

Various other things went wrong all week, leaving me with an intense desire to slam doors and stab babies. This stream of bad culminated in a really awful nightmare which woke me up at 6:45am today. Gore, screaming, torture, the works. I was not about to go back to sleep after that. I suppose on the up side, while the drugs didn't prevent this one from happening, they do seem to be keeping it from ruining the entire rest of my day. Small victories.

I remember running barefoot through some streets near my work, and going into this apartment complex that was being remodeled. It looked half like a strange meeting room done in blues and greens, half like this claustrophobic mess of plywood and struts. Various people I know where present, one of them being my friend R's sister A. She showed me around a few rooms, and I asked her why all the bodies and blood were strewn around. She shrugged and told me that that's just how it was there. More running, creatures jumping up behind me and trying to drag me down, me finally finding someone else I know, my other friend A's husband B, and I told him that we had to get inside because bad things were coming.

The next thing I knew, we were imprisoned in this apartment, and the bad guy in American Psycho (I hated that movie) played by Christian Bale (CB, henceforth) was holding us there. I had a very bad feeling as soon as I saw that we couldn't get out, and I kept telling B that we had to run, we had to get out of there, because that guy was going to torture and kill us, but he wouldn't believe me. I was throwing our stuff in boxes to get away when CB poked his head around the corner and dread filled my stomach. He came after me, trying to drag me down, and I was trying to hold him off, screaming at B to kill him, hit him, stab him, something, but he wouldn't.

I finally got my keys away from CB and tried to stab him with them, but they dug into his arm to the bone and he just kept turning his arm over so that the keys would gouge him all the way around, laughing maniacally the whole time like he was enjoying it. At this point I remember screaming for Patrick to help me, but either he wasn't there or he wouldn't respond.

I somehow got away from CB and saw B's dog sitting in a basket, immediately knowing I had to get him away from CB, so I climbed out the window and down the various balconies, holding the dog close to me. I slipped a couple times but made it finally and let him down safely on the ground so he could get away. I'd had my cats with me, but I was pretty sure they were out of that place as well. As I was getting ready to leave, CB turned up on the ground and since he'd observed that I was escaping and he didn't have the dog to threaten me with, he said, "Guess I'd better go get the kitties." I knew he was going to torture and kill them, so I screamed and launched myself at him, fighting him as hard as I could, biting and clawing.

The ONLY good thing about my dream is that after all that bad shit happened, I sort of half woke up long enough to realize I was dreaming. So with the last bits of dream that were clinging to me, I gave myself a minigun and proceeded to blow the living hell out of CB. The dream ended with him lying dead in a pool of blood from all the holes I blew in him, and I kinda felt better after that.
I used this.
I hope this weekend is better! I made sure to feed myself chocolate this morning in the hope of getting over my bad juju, and we shall see if it makes a difference.

P.S. Actually, you know, maybe that dream was cathartic or something. I feel loads better now and am actually cheerful. Or it could be a combination of my fantastic husband and the great weather we're having today. ;) Either way, I'm in a pretty damn good mood! Vive le week-end!
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