I tend to have dreams that are of the bat-sh*t crazy variety. Show of hands of any people who are surprised by that? Nobody? Bueller?
But this one was extra creepy because it was half real and brought to you by my bad choices.
Let’s start at the beginning: I went to New Orleans recently for the first time and did it up right, by which I mean I ate beignets and rode the streetcars and of course, bought a voodoo doll, because of course I did!
He was dressed like a wizard to fool me and lure me in with his adorableness, so I let my guard down and invited him into my home.
If you’re following along with the classic horror movie timeline, this would be the part of the film where the girl blindly goes about her day, unaware of the looming danger and the ominous horror movie music playing in the background. Here: you can play this music as you keep reading:
Sooooo, I brought the little bugger home and set it on my nightstand where I could smile at its cuteness each day. Because truly he was adorable…or she I guess? Because yeah, women can be wizards too these days! Women can be anything they want to be! (they just get paid an average of 30% less than male wizards for performing the same job)
So time passed and I forgot to name the little trinket, which I guess is lucky for all of you on my list of those who have wronged me…
And I repeat that it was luckily nameless because my dog attacked it and ripped it apart a fair amount… wait, unless any of you have been attacked by wolves or a pack of wild dogs recently, because if you did than it was voodoo and also probably my bad. I do apologize, but also deny all legal responsibility and any subsequent medical bills.
So, this brings us to a dark and stormy night! No really, it was all thundering and lightning outside as rain pounded against my window. I was of course sleeping, for it is the thing that I do best in this world. And then the dreams began. The nightmare of the little yarn man, angry and attacking people with his crazy blood-thirtyness, properly enraged for having his beard and wizarding hat ripped off by a puppy. So the people banded together and caught him and they had to set him on fire to properly destroy him based on the rules of illogical dreams and the knowledge of Twilight. But alas the people only had fireworks, and so the fireworks were set, which if you have to go out this way fireworks really are the way to go. And so the little voodoo man was conquered and the people rejoiced, and then Tracy woke up to this staring at her:
So I glued his/her beard back on to appease its dramatic anger and put him in a mason jar containment cell for safety reasons, and hid him/her in my night stand.
The next day I was comparing weird thunderstorm stories with my friend Beth (who says if I ever talk about her on the blog I have to use a fake name, so pretend I didn’t just tell you her name was Beth Lambert and we’ll call her Lady Anonymous von Cubiclemate). And I thought surely my dream was creepy enough to win, but turns out her dream was about a bloodthirsty puma fight, which it turns out is scarier than inanimate yarn so I guess she wins.
The moral of the story: keychains are dangerous!
(disclaimer: Tracy is not practicing voodoo and wizards are awesome)