PulpLit.net

Stress = Press

I posted this story already in response to someone else's blog on a website far away, but then I decided it was too silly not to include here as well.

The other night I inexplicably dreamt that there was a large, old-fashioned printing press in my bedroom. I was half awake, with my eyes open, so I could actually see the printing press (imaginary) in my room (real).

I asked the DR what the hell it was doing there. He said "what?" (out loud, without waking up), which made me furious for the eighth of a second I remained awake before passing out again.

Not sure why I thought it was his fault.

I mean, hell, if anyone would bring an antiquated, overlarge printing press into the bedroom, it would be me, not him. Am I not already responsible for the easel, paints, multiple canvases, and screen-printing equipment? Yes. Yes I am.

I'm glad he's a sound sleeper. I don't think he remembers the Evil Printing Press incident (or my wrath) at all.

Bwahahahaha.

I'm totally bored with self-analysis, so I think that instead of wondering why I would dream about a problematic printing press, I will instead ask you why more people do not.