Why is it that we are fascinated, even obsessed, with our own dreams, yet the dreams of others seem merely tedious? Actually, sometimes I really like hearing other people's dreams simply to verify that I am not the only weirdo in the world whose dreams often seem to be completely surreal. But really, I do like hearing the dreams of people I care about--they can lend insight to the listener if one is paying attention. This is all to lead up to my own dreams, of course, since I can be as self-absorbed as the next person.

Lately I have been dreaming quite a bit, and remembering way too many of the dreams. Just the other night I was dreaming that there was an alien invasion of some kind, and that many people were being hoarded onto buses and taken away to the proverbial undisclosed location. I of course, was trying to save Marcy and myself from the aliens. We were in some weird town, and eventually we too were on one of the buses. Somehow I escaped the bus and I was hiding in a building. I knew THEY were coming, so I was able to hide in a kind of storage room. I realized at that moment that THEY couldn't see, but had very good other senses like touch, smell, and hearing. I knew that if I was really quiet and didn't move, that they might miss us. I was hoping that Marcy would be very quiet and still. She crawled up my shirt and was silent, and I stood very still. The aliens opened the door to the room I was in, and proceeded to stick their yucky arms/claws/tentacles in to feel me to see if I was real or inanimate. I had to endure touching and not move to remain undetected. The alien even bit me to see if I would react. Of course, I did not even flinch. Then they withdrew from my hiding space and boarded their alien ship and flew off to where ever the fuck they came from. Marcy and I were safe.