I think my subconscious is bored, too.

Some unusual Sunday posting going on over here... but I'm so bored out of my mind and - ok I'll be honest - feeling sorry for myself that I'm still in bed with a painful back, that I just gotta do something. I've already watched too many movies/tv series (Revenge, Sherlock, Twilight + New Moon, Boys, Some Kind of Wonderful, The Incredible Hulk, Spiderman, some disturbing documentary about a family of rogue hillbillies in West Virginia, He's Just not that Into you, and a bunch more I can't even remember the titles of). I've been reading 3 books at the same time. I'm working on 3 knitting projects, one of which I finished last night. I've put a collection of favorite photographs and artworks on our bedroom wall, and I've written lengthy emails to a bunch of friends. I've written in my journal, studied the Old Testament, wasted countless hours on Pinterest, Tumblr, Spotify and other people's blogs, and I've written some bad poetry. So really, blogging was the next logical step.

I'm munching on this amazing chocolate fudge right now that my sweet neighbor Jean made for us. She's such a breath of fresh air compared to our usual deranged and highly excitable neighbors. I mean, she makes us fudge! She came over the day before Halloween with bags of treats for all 6 of us, because she wasn't going to be home the next day. The only thing our last neighbor ever gave us was a headache. We love Jean. I think she might secretly be a TV personality too, as my mother is positive she saw her in a commercial the other day.

So I know I already shared this on Facebook, but it's too funny and weird to not put on here as well. The other day I woke up from the most disturbing dream I have ever had. In fact I am willing to bet it was the most disturbing dream any of you have had as well! The whole thing didn't last very long (which is good, any longer and you may have seen me running to check myself into the psych ward of the nearest hospital) but left a great impact. I can still remember every detail! Here's what happened....

I am at my parent's house. I know it's my parent's house, not because it looks like their house, or any house I've ever been in for that matter, but because it's a dream and I just know. I am in their bathroom getting a drink of water and checking my hair, when my dad walks in with a kitchen chair and a piece of rope. He walks over to the bathtub, puts the chair in the tub, turns on the water, and climbs onto the chair to fasten the rope to the ceiling. Once secured, he climbs back down and walks out of the bathroom. I hear him walking down some steps, rummaging around, and coming back up. When he re-enters the bathroom he is holding a rifle and a toaster - which he plugs in next to the bathtub. He then turns off the bathwater (the tub has filled up by now), climbs back onto the hair while holding the toaster and the rifle, and sticks his head through what I now see is a noose. I ask him what on earth he is doing, and he calmly replies that he is going to commit suicide. 'But, why??', I ask him in horror. 'Oh, just to see the look on your mother's face when she gets home', he answers with an amused smile. 'BUT YOU'LL BE DEAD!', I shriek back at him. He shrugs and tells me I should probably leave. I agree (in my dreams I make no heroic attempts at stopping my loved ones from doing horrible things), and start to walk away. Once downstairs I hear a shot, and right after my dad's voice yelling: 'You had better run! I'm aiming for the gas main!!'.

This is when I wake up.

To any professional or self-proclaimed psychologists out there I ask this simple question: What. The. He**???

Really, what on earth could something like this mean? I love my dad! We get along wonderfully! I know he doesn't harbor a secret death wish, and if he did it certainly wouldn't be for his personal entertainment. And why so thorough? I mean, just in case the explosion from the bullet to the gas main wouldn't kill him, the blast would hang him, and if somehow the noose fails him, he'll just drop in the water and be electrocuted by the toaster.

I choose to laugh at all of this. The subconscious is a funny thing, don't you think? Now please, PLEASE tell me you've secretly dreamed up worse than this?

Please?