Why cookies?
Each time the dream is the same, but with enough differences to keep the fear fresh and alive. This time I am walking through a shopping mall. Nothing about it is familiar, but I feel like I have been there before. There are hundreds of people walking around, and everyone is smiling. Smiling to the point of being blinding. I hate the bright shine of their teeth, want to smash them out and watch them spit their blood covered chicklets to the floor. I reach behind me to draw my knife, excited for a moment about savagely moving through the crowd of grinning sheep and cutting off their lips to put an end to the smiling, but every time I bring my hand back there is just a box of Girl Scout cookies. Not even a good kind. Just those plain shortbread or butter cookies or whatever.
Every time I throw the box down to the ground and reach for the strong steel blade I end up with another box of those fucking cookies. The stupid happy people start getting all excited, reaching for the cookies and surrounding me from all around like a pack of zombies. I start kicking and throwing elbows, giving up on the knife-that-is-cookies, and usually wake up at this point, but sometimes they just keep grinning and reaching for snacks as I smother beneath them.
One of them hugged me last night. HUGGED me. I started clawing out his eyes and biting his face. Man I hate that dream.
I gotta go back to work. This laying low shit has got to stop. Its been over a month since I snuffed a flame, and it is making it hard to concentrate on anything else. I think its time to start planning a date with my new friend.
