death by hairdryer

I tend to dream about current events and replace myself as the main character (see this post for another example). This is no way meant to make light of recent events at Virginia Tech, but I had a related dream that I couldn't resist posting about ...


[Scene: My Alma Mater, The University of Montevallo, except it looked nothing like Montevallo. There is a gunman on the loose, and my friends and I are running to escape the gunfire. The only two people I remember being there were two of our interns at work, Drew and Irving, who are in no way related to Montevallo. I end up running alone, and slip into an empty room and hide behind the door, much in the same manner as you would if playing hide-and-seek. (Seriously ... who's not going to look behind the door?) Irving busts into the room and immediately finds me crouching behind the door.]


Me: "Irving, don't shoot me!"

Irving: "I have to." Irving puts the gun directly over my heart, but instead of it being a gun it is now a hair dryer. He pulls the "trigger."


I lie behind the door, not bleeding, because apparently hairdryers don't puncture the skin, but dying nonetheless. In a moment of genius I whip out my cell phone and send a text message to my brother saying, "I've been shot. Tell mom and dad." Because that will surely save me.


I awoke from my dream and really felt like I was dying. But I wasn't. The moral of the story - stay on the good side of interns, and always, always be careful with hairdryers.