Nightmares, especially those that are so frightening they wake me up at 3:30 AM, are very disorienting events. You lie there, trying to convince yourself that you’re no longer the oneiric character in peril but are, in fact yourself. You look around the room, marking evidence that the various shapes and shadows around you are simple ordinary fixtures of your normal environs, and not the menacing agents that imperiled your dream persona.
I just wonder why the whole process takes so long. It must have been twenty minutes before I was convinced I was just the dull guy I normally am, and not a young lady hysterically clutching an axe and trying to evade silver-skinned invaders. Evil invaders, I should point out. One look at their scowls would convince anyone.
(Points to anyone who can identify the source of this entry’s title.)