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I think my head is anxious
Apr. 28th, 2012 01:05 amI don't remember my dreams very often, unless I've slept too long and then they get fucked up and completely nonsensical.
But lately I've been waking with more of a memory of my sleep stories, and they've been more reality-based than usual.
Here's the latest, which I just woke from after an attempt to crash early and catch up on sleep:
I was walking along Roosevelt Road, crossing Central Ave while talking on the phone, tottering on heels that I was wearing because I was just coming from some bachelorette party where I had to push away gyrating, shirtless creepers with Jersey Shore bodies. This was the topic of my phone conversation as I was making my way to my car, and I happened to look up to notice two guys wearing heavy coats and skullcaps. One of them strapped a silencer on the muzzle of a big silver gun and prompted the other to follow him into the Shell station, which faced Roosevelt rather than Central, so I could see in their front windows.
The gun holder raised his weapon as he entered, and I gasped into my phone, "OMIGOD CALL THE COPS THE SHELL IS GETTING ROBBED. I'm gonna try to get out of here before they see me." then put the phone away and hurried to pull out my keys.
I should have had enough time to unlock the car and speed away, but before I was even at the door the two guys were in front of me, no longer wearing coats and skullcaps. The gun holder was short but solid, with smooth cheeks and gelled, spiky blond hair. He made eye contact with me, and flicked the wrist of the hand holding the gun, gesturing at my vehicle. He didn't say a word, but I knew he wanted me to give it up. I froze, knowing I had no way to fight this, and as he trained the gun on me I had two hopes:
One: that they wouldn't hurt me too bad.
Two: that they'd let me keep my phone.
Luckily I woke before the story could advance any further. I sat straight up in bed, and was shaking for at least a few minutes. Now I'm starting to wish for a return to my more nonsensical dreams, cause even when they were at their worst they were much easier to let go of.
But lately I've been waking with more of a memory of my sleep stories, and they've been more reality-based than usual.
Here's the latest, which I just woke from after an attempt to crash early and catch up on sleep:
I was walking along Roosevelt Road, crossing Central Ave while talking on the phone, tottering on heels that I was wearing because I was just coming from some bachelorette party where I had to push away gyrating, shirtless creepers with Jersey Shore bodies. This was the topic of my phone conversation as I was making my way to my car, and I happened to look up to notice two guys wearing heavy coats and skullcaps. One of them strapped a silencer on the muzzle of a big silver gun and prompted the other to follow him into the Shell station, which faced Roosevelt rather than Central, so I could see in their front windows.
The gun holder raised his weapon as he entered, and I gasped into my phone, "OMIGOD CALL THE COPS THE SHELL IS GETTING ROBBED. I'm gonna try to get out of here before they see me." then put the phone away and hurried to pull out my keys.
I should have had enough time to unlock the car and speed away, but before I was even at the door the two guys were in front of me, no longer wearing coats and skullcaps. The gun holder was short but solid, with smooth cheeks and gelled, spiky blond hair. He made eye contact with me, and flicked the wrist of the hand holding the gun, gesturing at my vehicle. He didn't say a word, but I knew he wanted me to give it up. I froze, knowing I had no way to fight this, and as he trained the gun on me I had two hopes:
One: that they wouldn't hurt me too bad.
Two: that they'd let me keep my phone.
Luckily I woke before the story could advance any further. I sat straight up in bed, and was shaking for at least a few minutes. Now I'm starting to wish for a return to my more nonsensical dreams, cause even when they were at their worst they were much easier to let go of.
