And continuing with the creepy-crawly theme of this blog recently, I had a dream last night. Well, I think it was a dream, or not. Or else I woke up in the middle of the night, reached out to the nightstand for my phone to check the time, and –
a spider ran over my hand.
Checking, this morning, it must surely have been a dream. Because according to my partner – who sleeps lightly – I did not wake him up by screaming the place down. And also, there is a curious fogged, vague, indeterminate lack of ending to the memory itself, which doesn’t lend it a lot of credence.
If it had been for real, then I would have been haring around the bedroom, bashing anything that moved with a rolled-up newspaper and screeching my head off, for sure. Not that I mind spiders. Generally, I am pro-spider. Just not when I’ve that second woken up, and the spider in question is ON MY FUCKING HAND.
That’s all. I reckon the universe is sending me a message. Possibly, ‘Crack on with that ‘The Entomologist and No-Spiders-Man’ tale, then, eh? Where is it?’
Image – 1000iu Klvo on Flickr, public domain.
Image – Rob Mitchell on Flickr, public domain.