So the other night in a dream I somehow acquired an affectionate, highly fearful, small-dog-sized tarantula for a pet. She lives in a duffel bag. No she does not have a name because it's a dream. Anyways...
Just woke up from a long, rambling dream involving a prank war and the people I was at war with disturbed my living space. With an adorably terrified screech my pet giant spider jumped out of her duffel bag and ran toward me for safety, but I am not a willing spider owner cause it's a ****ing dream so now I'm running for MY life cause I don't trust my subconscious not to have a go at me.
Notice that this incident and my acquisition of the spider (who I have just now decided to dub Nancy) happened on different nights and in different dreams. Meaning that my subconscious has now adopted a spider which it considers both lovable companion and nightmare.
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Originally Posted by J.R.R. Tolkien
There is only one bright spot and that is the growing habit of disgruntled men of dynamiting factories and power-stations; I hope that, encouraged now as ‘patriotism’, may remain a habit! But it won’t do any good, if it is not universal.
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