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I Don’t Like Ratatouille.

Maybe I should be more careful about my mix of beverages and television before bed. Last night I watched North by Northwest, and drank decaf chai,  a seemingly innocuous combination, right? Yet I had one of the strangest, most disturbing dreams I can remember. 

In a warehouse somewhere behind where we worked, seated in lawn chairs, I was holding hands and snuggling up with a man who was by turns Trace Adkins and LArry the Cable Guy. Oddly, that isn’t the disturbing part…

The warehouse was stacked roof-high with empty crates, boxes, furniture, and various odds and ends, and crawling through all this junk there were rats. Big, gray sewer rats, with huge shiny teeth. I hate rats. Totally creep me out. The rats would get close to us every so often, and someone would take a swing at one with something, like a rake or a snow shovel, trying to scare it or kill it. If the rat was struck, it would bulge a bit, oozing blood and goo, and then BAM! Explode! Mostly, they were small explosions, and the rat guts only covered a small area, as if someone had stepped on an over-ripe tomato. 

Here’s where it gets  gross. 

When an especially “friendly” rat kept coming nearer to me than I liked, I swung at him with pieces from a wooden crate, and smashed him flat into the concrete floor. Within seconds, this rat exploded everywhere, covering me with rat blood. It was IN MY MOUTH!! There was exploded rat in my mouth! I woke up clawing at my face, spitting and hollering, shuddering with disgust. Had to brush my teeth 3 times before I felt able to go back to bed, and even then it was an hour before I could fall asleep again. 

I can’t write anymore. I have to go brush my teeth. Ewww.