Thursday, March 01, 2007
Night Moves
Last night I had a dream in which I was being pursued by a serial killer. This was probably induced by the fact that I saw Jake Gyllenhaal promoting his new serial killer movie on the Daily Show shortly before I went to bed; why I didn't dream of something pleasant like breakfasting with the Gyllenhaals (and perhaps the Sarsgaards as well, oooh!) instead, I'll never know. But the point is that I woke up at 3:30 in the morning utterly convinced that a serial killer was lurking somewhere in my home. I checked the closet, the bathroom, even the DRAWERS in the bathroom -- I was that paranoid -- but found no tiny knife-wielding maniacs. Still somehow concerned for my safety, I considered putting the armchair in my bedroom directly in front of the door to prevent murderers from breaking in, but settled instead for placing a stack of CDs there, the idea being that the noise from the CDs falling upon the murderer's entry would wake me and allow me to defend myself. And don't worry, they were old CDs that I don't listen to any more; primarily Hootie and the Blowfish, I should think. I then was able to return to bed, with the soothing sounds of some infomercial about hair growth (or maybe hair removal, I can't quite remember) to lull me to sleep.
Fortunately, no maniacs did break into my house to kill me, because now that I am fully awake and rational I realize that, despite my mad booby trapping skills, I might not in fact be able to "take" your average armed serial killer. I mean, in a fair fight, sure, but what serial killer fights fair?
The saddest part of all of this is that it is not the first time this has happened. A few months ago I had a dream where Samuel Jackson was trying to kill me, and considered the same chair-related defense mechanism. It was only the presence of an overnight guest that deterred me.
Last night I had a dream in which I was being pursued by a serial killer. This was probably induced by the fact that I saw Jake Gyllenhaal promoting his new serial killer movie on the Daily Show shortly before I went to bed; why I didn't dream of something pleasant like breakfasting with the Gyllenhaals (and perhaps the Sarsgaards as well, oooh!) instead, I'll never know. But the point is that I woke up at 3:30 in the morning utterly convinced that a serial killer was lurking somewhere in my home. I checked the closet, the bathroom, even the DRAWERS in the bathroom -- I was that paranoid -- but found no tiny knife-wielding maniacs. Still somehow concerned for my safety, I considered putting the armchair in my bedroom directly in front of the door to prevent murderers from breaking in, but settled instead for placing a stack of CDs there, the idea being that the noise from the CDs falling upon the murderer's entry would wake me and allow me to defend myself. And don't worry, they were old CDs that I don't listen to any more; primarily Hootie and the Blowfish, I should think. I then was able to return to bed, with the soothing sounds of some infomercial about hair growth (or maybe hair removal, I can't quite remember) to lull me to sleep.
Fortunately, no maniacs did break into my house to kill me, because now that I am fully awake and rational I realize that, despite my mad booby trapping skills, I might not in fact be able to "take" your average armed serial killer. I mean, in a fair fight, sure, but what serial killer fights fair?
The saddest part of all of this is that it is not the first time this has happened. A few months ago I had a dream where Samuel Jackson was trying to kill me, and considered the same chair-related defense mechanism. It was only the presence of an overnight guest that deterred me.
