Last night, I had the most disturbing dream, ever.
It was so unsettling, my dream self looked at me (as someone observing my dream) and shouted for me to wake up until I actually did.
In the past, I've gone into excruciating detail describing how much I hate cockroaches.
& it still rings true:
Reader(s), I can find sympathy in my heart for almost all living things but I'll stomp the mess outta a cockroach (and also: mosquitoes, spiders, fleas).
So I was alarmed and repulsed to find a cockroach on my bathroom ceiling the other night.
Knowing that any attempts to swat at it would knock it off the ceiling and likely onto my person or onto the floor where it could quickly scuttle underneath some furniture or into the black abyss that is my closet, I decided I would trap this cockroach.
In elementary school, my fifth grade science teacher had us turn in dead bugs glued to construction paper with their scientific names beside them. He taught us that once an insect has been trapped, you can kill them by tossing a cotton ball full of rubbing alcohol or nail polish remover into the closed jar encapsulating the bug. & this strategy worked for me.
I tried to recreate my childhood successes by getting a small ladder, a bowl, and a cotton ball full of nail polish remover to trap the pest. This attempt was only semi-successful. Rather than instantly killing the roach, the nail polish remover just made it sick. As I glided the bowl from the ceiling down the walls (in an attempt to get it to a level where I could squash it), a trail of brown mush appeared. The bowl was sort of see through so I strained to see what was happening; the cockroach was writhing and twitching and pooping everywhere.
I was eventually able to kill the cockroach, wash off & disinfect my ceiling and walls, and live my life in only a mild state of paranoia that any given moment, I could be eaten alive by the dead cockroach's brethren.
This is the third cockroach I've found inside my apartment since I moved in in September. I pay A LOT of money to live in my tiny apartment and I keep it pretty clean. I don't understand why this is happening to me.
back to my dream last night.
In my dream, I was walking through my apartment in the dark, looking for Shakespeare. I found him in the dining area, and the carpet had been pulled back from the walls. Something was crawling all over the underside of the carpeting. I flipped the kitchen light switch to see that the carpet was covered in cockroaches. I grabbed Shakespeare and threw him in my room. I closed the door behind him and went looking for pesticide. I found some under my bathroom sink and started spraying away.
The whole floor of my dining area was covered in a frothy pesticide coating. It was like snow. But then, this really wealthy girl I went to high school with emerged from the blanket of pesticide. She stood up, covered in the fluff. She looks me dead in the eye and then starts twitching, writhing, foaming at the mouth. The poisonous pesticide is killing her in a very violent way.
It was horrible to watch.
Dream me decides that maybe I can put her out of her misery if I spray her with more pesticide.
That doesn't work. Instead she gets angry, she starts charging at me--still writhing, still twitching, foaming at the mouth, blood shot eyes. The pesticide has started eating away parts of flesh.
You guys, this was some horrific shit.
I was afraid.
This is the part where all of a sudden, I stop being myself in the dream.
Dream me becomes separate, able to turn to me and tell me to wake up.
Seriously, it's been haunting me all day. Stupid fucking nightmare.
I'm pretty sure all of this gore and horror was brought on by the mid-season premiere of Walking Dead, which aired last night; guilt over the prolonged murder of that cockroach as well as fear of a cockroach uprising, and talk of snow yesterday as nearly everywhere in Texas but San Antonio experienced a little snow fall or sleet yesterday. But still. This was some disturbing shit.