It started out innocently enough. I was in my car, driving through construction on the main highway that runs through the little town I live in. (Didn't have an Edward to get me through it this time, though. Dang. P.S. Mentioned Twilight in first paragraph. Points for me.) It's a weekday and I must be in either high school or college, because I am thinking about a book report/research paper that I have to have finished and need to turn in for a grade. As I was driving along, I noticed a hitchhiker on the side of the road.
Dude really shouldn't stick his arm out in traffic like that. Although his fist *is* bigger than that smart car...
Now I would normally NEVER pick up hitchhikers alone. Or ever, period. I've seen the commercials for too many scary movies that start out that way. (The commercials only, because I NEVER watch the movies.) I hate it for you awesome, normal, cool hitchhikers, but the psycho smelly killer ones ruined it for the rest of you. But this hitchhiker was a girl. She had workout shorts on, with a fuzzy light green fleece jacket and a navy blue ball cap covering her blonde ponytail. I would love to say that's why I pulled over, because she looked nice. But the real reason was because she looked EXACTLY LIKE ANDEE DID IN HIGH SCHOOL. I realized this in my dream. So I picked her up.
Cute chick looking for a ride? Sure. Scary guy with an ax? No.
Now I don't know what I've been reading or watching lately, but I don't see how anything could have led to what happened next in the dream. One minute, I'm picking up the Andee look-a-like....
....the next minute, her decapitated head is riding shotgun in my passenger seat.
And I am freaking the f*ck out.
Obviously, I have murdered this poor hitchhiker that looks like Andee and cut her head off as a souvenir. And I now have a problem--how am I going to get out of it?
The rest of the dream is not important--it is me trying to drive the decapitated head of the nameless vagabond twin of Andee to Jacksonville, Florida (Score! Another Twilight reference. Also where I lived from ages 1 to 5) knowing that if I turn in the book report/research paper, that it will be counted as evidence and trying to find out ways to lie about it and not have to go to jail for murdering homeless people.
What IS important is this:
Andee, am I ever invited back to your house again?
I swear I won't remove your head from the rest of your body.