I normally can’t recall my dreams, and when I do, it’s only right when I wake up and usually just fragments. But nearly every night at my parents’ house, I’ve had exceptionally vivid dreams that I remember as clearly and fully as the day before. Sometimes this is a wonderful, mystical feeling because a dream is like a TV show that’s entertaining to no one else but you, but mostly it’s just absurd.

One dream I had involved me working at American Eagle (where I worked for three years in high school), and a customer was stalking me there. He’d been coming into the store daily, eyeing me, and amazingly I was interested because he looked cute. … I don’t even want to know how my subconscious computed this.

In another one I had, I was a cold-blooded zombie killer that I can only accurately describe as Katniss from ‘The Hunger Games’. Apparently we were in a post-apocalyptic time period and zombies were all over the place. I was impaling their brains with a wrought iron cane-shaped fire poker (not sure why it was cane-shaped?) that I fashioned into a spear, all while keeping a blasé attitude: “well, here come some zombies I have to kill now…” like it was the norm of my life. But it was very gruesome. I read Elizabeth Kosyova’s ‘The Historian’ while I was home, which is all about vampires and the undead, so I’m pretty confident that’s the reason for this kooky dream.

I am currently waiting to board my flight which has been delayed three and a half hours. Ugh.

EDIT: make that a 6 hour delay. For a 2.5 hour flight.