Monday, November 1, 2010

Last night I dreamed there was a bear on a rampage in a carnival. People were panicking and running and screaming. I thought the best thing to do would be to trap the bear in a room and let it calm down. It was impossible so I grabbed a baseball bat (there were multiple baseball games going on at the same time as the carnival) and went to look for the bear. When I reached it it was lying in a carnival booth enclosure. Someone had taken a shovel and had chopped off its hands and feet (paws?). It was awful, and the bear was in terrible pain, but couldn't get up and run away. Then whoever it was who had the shovel took the shovel and gashed its neck and it started to bleed profusely and we all knew it would be dead soon. I felt terrible for the bear, because all it had done was wander into a place where it didn't belong, and even if it had to be killed so that people wouldn't be killed, it didn't deserve to be mutilated, terrorized and humiliated.

The only dreams I seem to remember are the gruesome ones that wake me up gasping.

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