Hallelujah! I feeel good!
For the first time in over a MONTH, I was able to sleep a solid eight (count ’em!), eight hours! No interruptions due to coughing fits or having to wake up to blow my nose so that I could breathe. Just a nice, solid eight hours of continuous, bliss filled sleep.
Well, except for the exceptionally weird dreams. Apparently, anytime that I get to sleep for that length of time means that I will have ridiculously odd, usually scary, dreams. Like, “stick her in an insane asylum- because she is loony tunes” type dreams.
The dream kicks off that the hubs, my daughter and I have all decided to go to a rustic gold mining type town for breakfast. It’s a beautiful , slightly overcast morning, so we decide to sit outside on the wooden deck to better enjoy the view of the mountains and the desert in the background. The waiter seems overly interested in the fact that my daughter and I look so much alike- and comments several times about the color of our eyes, and how captivating they are and that creates a small ripple of unease. We shrug it off and pay our bill then go exploring.
Gold mining equipment, old trucks, mining railing just rusting away are sprinkled along the path providing a charming view to another time and opportunity for rustic photo ops.
As it so happens in dreams for whatever reason, we decide to take a leisurely stroll through town- by splitting up of course. Jimmy wanders ahead of me and Taylor, and we get sidetracked by an old fashioned store complete with hammering blacksmith.
While watching the process of tightly formed biceps hammering away and forging fire-hot metals, we did not notice the passing of time, and the rapid descent of darkness. Somehow we didn’t realize that hours had passed and we still did not know where Jimmy was. The darker it became the less people there were around and the creepier the once charming town became. Jimmy’s phone was not answering, I couldn’t find our car and I could feel that someone was following us- but I couldn’t see them. My heart is pounding in my ears from fear. Fear for my child in an unknown place, fear of what is stalking us and the anxiety of knowing that something happened to my husband. Because there is NO WAY possible that he just disappeared without his family unless someone hurt him.
We circle back to the diner, thinking that there should be people there and an opportunity to call friends to help look for Jimmy. The front door is askew, and the lights are still on, so we go in.
The next thing I know, we are both waking up in a dark, windowless room and are chained to the wall. The floor is dirt, and littered with decaying body parts. Human body parts. Ripped apart, shredded and bloody arms and legs strewn about. The smell was horrific. But that wasn’t even the worst part. We are both werewolves- and we are MALE. To say that there was a whole lot of freaked out screeching and crying would be putting it mildly.
The door to our dungeon swings opens up and WE walk in- or whomever swapped our bodies comes strolling in. Except they are done up like some 1800’s saloon girls and they are so excited to let us know how much fun they will be having in OUR bodies with the rest of the town. “What? Doncha recognize me? You left me a nice tip this morning.Enough to buy some new perfume.” He cackled. Great. It’s the creepy waiter from breakfast. This is horrifying on several levels, the highest one being that my daughter is only 15.
Thankfully, I remember from a book I had read on Werewolves (I know- how lucky, right?!) that as long as we get our bodies back before sunrise the change would not be permanent. The only problem was getting loose before those trolls defiled our bodies. As those cretins close the door it dawns on me that as werewolves, we should have supernatural strength. With several hard yanks the chains pulled right out of the dilapidated walls and we were free. Now we just had to capture those body snatchers and switch back. Just had to find the magic potion to do it. After a quick run through of the shack, Taylor and I found the gelatinous ooze that we would need to stuff down our own bodies’ throats to get back. The tricky part would be making sure that the werewolves couldn’t eat us after the switch.
Taylor grabs the wall chains, a couple of huge metal locks and a machete that was being gripped in a dead man’s hand and we sneak out of the shack to look for “ourselves”. We see “us” standing outside the back door entrance to the saloon, primping. We grab ourselves by the hair and drag over to a post. Thinking quickly, I tell Taylor to chain just one (each) of our werewolf feet to the concrete posts in the back of the saloon. We have to be able to be somewhat mobile to hold our squirming human selves, but be able to run away once the potion switches us back. Both Taylor and I pour the potion down our human selves, then take a mouthful in our werewolf mouths. Before swallowing I take the machete and hack off the balls of my werewolf and make sure that he can see what I am doing before he is switched back. As soon as Taylor swallows her potion I do the same to her werewolf. I didn’t want her to have to experience the pain, but wanted to make sure that retribution was done. Quickly swallowing the mouthful of potion, we are instantly jolted back into our bodies. THANK GOD they don’t feel like they have been violated. The screaming is horrendous coming from the now castrated ghouls, so we run as fast as we can in the direction that we think the city and home is.
As we are running hell bent for leather through the desert, Jimmy shows up in the car and is irate because he was looking for us the whole time. After explaining what happened and why we were dressed like we were, he says, “That does it! No more Supernatural for the two of you! Can’t take you any-damn-where.”.
Wonder if I should chill out on the Supernatural marathons, or just get less sleep?