Wednesday, July 7th, 2010
Last night I dreamt that I was placed in a crooked insane asylum. I wasn't crazy, and neither were most of the other people who were trapped there. The sadistic doctors started torturing and killing the patients, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the same thing happened to me. After struggling fruitlessly to find a door or window that wasn't firmly locked, I finally found an unlocked door that led into the parking lot of my childhood church. As I walked out the door, my sister called me and I answered on the tiniest cell phone I had ever seen. I told her I was scared, and that I needed help, but that I thought everything would be okay. And then I took off.
I was running, faster and farther than I've ever been able to run. I knew they were after me, and that I had to get help. I finally found a police officer, and breathlessly, I explained the situation to him. As I was telling him about the torture and murder I had witnessed, I saw in the officer's eyes and I knew: my story sounded crazy, and the first thing he was going to do was take me back to the insane asylum. So I knew if I was going to get away, I was going to have to kill this cop.
And then I woke up.
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