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Friday, May 15, 2015


I dreamed we’d been invaded by aliens and by "alien" I mean creature from another planet. I was living in some large pod type house in a green, hilly area. Vermont? There were, perhaps, as many as 15 other adults and a few kiddles in residence. It seemed like, maybe, the digs for one of those summer writer's retreats.

In order to elude the invaders we needed to stand in corners or flush against walls and not move at all. They couldn’t see us if we didn’t move or our bodies didn’t, in any way, touch.

I was eager, anxious even, to see what the beings looked like. Would they be all Alien-esque? If so, could we get Ripley on the blower STAT!? Maybe the creatures would look like E.T.homely but sorta cuddly? Possibly they’d rock the Nevada look?

Poking my peepers out of my shower stall hide out, I spied the first of their group. It seemed to me that they were wearing human costumes so as not to scare us. Shockingly, they looked like the munchkins from The Wizard of Oz—sweet, benign and, stylistically, a century out of date .
Clearly this was a trap! They’d appear all nonthreatening, lure me out of hiding with the sugary charm of Lollipop Guild songs and BAM, next thing you know I’m on a steel table and there are probes and...and... EWWWWWWWWWW!

Yeah, I stayed in my tiny rain closet, hoping no one would get curious. But, of course. they did. One of them, not seeing me YET, climbed in, eager to explore this strange, tiled niche. As soon as her body bumped mine, I became visible.

Turns out, she and her little squad of aliens were the equivalent of teenage mean girls. Yeah, cold-bloodedly nasty and just thrilled to bits over finding a defenseless human with whom they could toy.


I crashed past them and sprinted off. This was a dream—I could sprint. YEA!

Like real life, my nocturnal picture shows often lack definitive and-they-lived-happily-ever-after resolutions. Last scene in this odd little chimera was of me dashing up over a green hill chock-full of picnicers seemingly waiting for a show to begin. It felt like the Wachusett or Bread and Roses Fests.

Were all these happy folk, dining alfresco, aliens? Were they human? Did it really matter? Everyone seemed taken up with the bucolic beauty of the hill, their splendid, simple repasts and their cheery convo which floated to my ears on the lovely breeze.

Whether these people were from Planet Earth or elsewhere, no longer seemed important.

And then Rocco decided it was well past time for me to get my lazy ass outta bed. ‘S’ok, I’d had enough thrills, chills and relatively happy endings for one night.

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