Last night I had my second nightmare in a week. In my nightmare, I was driving through a small town (with a dark secret) when my car broke down. I spent the next several days waiting for the mechanic to get in a part that needed to be ordered, while I stayed at a local inn. Things got progressively darker, I remember I was investigating something, and the dream climaxed with me being attacked by the town’s bat-wielding sheriff in the rotted-out basement of the coroner’s house.

The last thing I remember was running through the woods to escape the townsfolk who’d started a manhunt to find me, when I woke up, heart racing. I actually quite enjoy nightmares, especially a good thriller like the nightmare I had last night. When I have a nightmare, I feel like I’m really getting my money’s worth — when you consider how much time a person spends asleep, it feels like a ripoff when I don’t get a good, compelling dream out of it. I do enjoy other dreams (no details necessary).

I’ve had a few nightmares that I think I could live without, but I’ve also had a number of dreams that left me with that “what was that?” feeling that leaves you unsatisfied. Sometimes I wish I could walk out on a bad dream like a bad movie. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever actually walked out on a movie … wait, I take it back. I’ve put in a DVD before and decided to stop watching … No Country For Old Men. I will go back and finish that movie one of these days, though.