Eww. I got shivers just typing that.
If you could check the backlog of my dreams, you'd see that there is a sort of archetype that my brain goes back to on a fairly regular basis. I am minding my own business, whether inside or out, and I see a bug, a snake, or something else alive and particularly unnerving. I go to examine it, and it disappears. Then, I turn to look for it and find that the entire area that I occupy in my dream is CRAWLING with them. More and more all the time, until I wake up in a panic.
And this is what my brain does to me while I sleep. Last night, however, there was a new wrinkle to this tired plot.
Seriously. I was in a house with white walls, possibly our old house from ten years ago. There was a single small centipede on the wall, like a little armored train with legs instead of wheels. And then there were two, and four, and more than I could count. I went to check out two that were on a wall, and they were gone. I took a step backward, and I heard a crunch.
Eww. Immediately I was freaking out because I'd stepped on a centipede...but when I turned around, it was a pile of potpourri I had stepped on. And we all laughed about it (who else? I dunno...) while the centipedes scurried all over the walls and carpet around us.
So, thank, brain, for concocting that little niblet of fun in all the horrifying creepy-crawliness.
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32 minutes ago