DREAM NINETEEN

Last night I dreamt I gave birth to the anti-christ. It was a newborn with teeth and it could talk. It would say horrible anti-christ-ish sort of things and then it would spit up. Next, I'm running to catch the Greyhound bus. I approach the ticket counter and ask if I missed the 417. The lady said it would depart in five seconds. I sprinted outside and boarded the first thing I could, an airplane. I had no idea where I was bound. The plane just lifted into the air and then promptly dove back to the runway. And in a spectacular blossom of burning jet fuel, I died.

So that's my day so far.