I had one Wednesday night.
A nightmare, I mean....and a burrito. But I digress.
The details are a little foggy. I remember a cottage, a bunch of people I referred to as family (even though they did not resemble a single relative of mine or Corey's), and a lady in a yellow shirt. Everyone was randomly roaming this cottage, looking for something, cleaning up, getting ready to swim in a nearby lake while I was being chased.
There I was, running and screaming at the top of my lungs and not one person attempted to intervene, or even lift a finger in my direction, but that is beside the point. My attacker, a bright orange flying squirrel dog frisbee, would find me in each of my hiding places and try to sting me with a lethal poison.
It was terrifying. But when it found me in the shower I finally mustered the courage to pick it up, bust open a window and throw it out onto the deck below where Corey and his friends were standing. I ordered him to shoot it with his shotgun. And that was then end of the sucker.
Phew.
So many things are wrong with this whole dream, I wouldn't even know where to begin.
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