Dear spider that was in my dream,

There was also a peach in my dream. And you, dream spider, were on that peach, transparent and tiny. You were getting ready to dig in, with your extra special secret dream-spider tools. I think that's when I woke up.

Really, spider that was in my dream, I have nothing much against spiders, and on an academic level I respect the work you do for good in this world, eating the bad bugs and trapping stuff in your webs and building webs and being all eight-legged and what not. But you go too far, spider. You go too far when you invade my dream, creep me out, and eat my dream peach. I was saving that peach. I was going to eat it for breakfast, and now you've ruined it.

And speaking of creepy things, I think there is entirely too much talk of the scary at the moment. On public radio this afternoon, someone was interviewing someone else who has a study out about horror and how revelatory it is about our state of mind, global-psyche-wise. Oh really? I think what horror shows us is that there is scary stuff, and it just keeps getting scarier. It just gets scarier by the movie, and you know what that tells me about the global psyche? We are terrified, that's what, and you, peach-ruining spider, you are not helping on that front.

Dream spider, if I had found you on my actual breakfast peach, I would have respected you and your fine work, academically. But breakfast-wise, I would have had to crush you like the bug you are. And don't try to tell me you're not a bug. You have 6-8 legs, am I right? Anything in that range is a bug around here, unless you ask my historian, but hear me now: I won't. I won't ask him. I will not have it, dream spider: you may not have my peach.

--and if you recur in my dreams, there is no telling what.

htms