vituperation

Monday, I finished reading Stephen King’s new book, Cell. It was flat out 100% awesome.

Tuesday night, I had a nightmare. In it, aliens had taken over the world and were lining up humans at processing facilities to be “converted” to the alien life form. In the midst of a violent escape with two other humans, I clawed my way to wakefulness, panting, my heart racing in my chest.

Wednesday night, I had a nightmare. I woke terrified at 2:48, hearing the moans of tormented people. I remember nothing about the dream. I worked out at 3:15 because I couldn’t get back to sleep.

Last night, I had a nightmare. In it, I was at work, and called to a customer site for an emergency meeting. When I entered the conference room, a customer/friend who died suddenly three weeks ago was waiting there for me. And not in the joyous “I never really died, I’m still alive” way that some dreams about people who’ve died are. I jerked myself awake, still feeling the cold fingers on my throat.

All this leads me to say — seriously heartfelt, without my normal dry humor (sometimes it’s hard to tell with me) intervening — thank you, Mr. King, for returning to your roots. You have no idea how much it’s like having an old friend back.

The Package