What's up with these nightmares? My life is easy. I've never been traumatized. Never done mind altering drugs. Yet every night, when the dreams roll in, they're bad.
This week I was chased by a swarm of batlike things. Batbugs or Mothbats. There was a switch in the room to turn them off but I couldn't find it because they were biting my arms, shoulders ears and cheeks.
Then I found myself wandering up a sidewalk, after dark. Rain fell. I could taste the drops. Gloomy jazz music played and a narrator chimed in "abandoned by her friends and family, she was never seen alive again. Her savagely beaten and strangled body was found in a ditch..."
Where does this stuff come from?
Stupid fire season! I thought.It gets worse every year!
I tried to comfort myself that I'd "only" die from smoke inhalation before the flames reached me. Then I figured a blaze this big was hot enough to roast me from a distance, the way a campfire gloop-afies a marshmallow without touching it. Was I doomed?
Wait! There was a way out, to the southeast. I scampered up the road to safety.
A fifty foot plume of flire rose ahead of me, blocking my escape.
"Someone's doing this on purpose!" I yelled.