Thursday, April 01, 2004

I had a dream last night that I was stabbed with a kitchen knife.

First it was a man that was stabbed by his crazy granny. She got mad, pulled out a butcher knife, and shoved it all the way through his stomach out the other side. She pulled it out, he grabbed it from her, and the police came. They accused him of trying to kill an old lady. They didn't even believe him when he showed the stab wound. The lady just acted surprised like she couldn't understand why her sweet little grandson would try to kill her.

Then it was me. I was holding my stomach in the place of the wound and was a little disappointed that more blood wasn't pouring out like in the movies. I called 911, but got a voice saying this number was incorrect. Oh yeah, I'm on campus. I have to dial an 8 to dial out. So I dialed 8-911 and got an operator. She was the Loud Girl. She started asking me questions like "Are you still at this number...blah blah blah" and I yelled into the phone, "I've been stabbed with a butcher knife!" She said tiredly, "Ok, I'll send someone on the way." "How long will it take?" I demanded. "I don't know, probably like 30 minutes or so."

So I noticed I was getting weaker and weaker (still holding my hand to the wound) and I whispered to my little brother to come by me. I said to him, "Matt, I love you. I don't know if I've ever told you that, but I really love you. Now I have to die." We both started crying and I was sad that I was going to have to die. But I never did die, I just kept lying on the ground while people circled around me staring.

I woke up with my hand clutching my stomach.

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