I know this is suppose to be a gratitude journal, but today this is a “What kind of fucked up dream is that?” journal. Because I’m a woman of mild nature, the dream puzzles me.
Last night, beneath the light of a full moon, I dreamed Hubby and I caught the asshole who had trespassed on our property and removed a chair from our porch. His rude behavior became more grievous, for we suspected he had been arranging dope deals in front of our property. Charging Hubby, the culprit ran up our porch with the intention of putting it to JH. JH easily got the best of him, gave him the bum’s rush off our porch, and leapt from the porch to finish the job. Lying on the ground, the very-well-could-be dealer swung at my husband. Infuriated, I jumped off the porch and looked for a place in which to kick the bastard. From out of nowhere, a horde of his college buddies ran toward Hubby. An assault weapon poofed into my mitts, and I sprayed the avengers before anyone of them could reach my husband — actually, I intended to use the bullets to form a wall between the avengers and Hubby. If the attackers were silly enough to run into the wall — and it seemed they had the good sense not to — then nature would run its course. Hubby continued to batter the fucker who had decided he would make our property his bitch.
I think I’ve been watching way too much 530pm news, which has been showing quite a bit of footage on the war in Syria.