Minute 2 of my recurring nightmare

I and the others are herded out of the room of horror where some crazy lady named Janet (or was it Janice. Oh shit! I hope she doesn’t call on me) just shot two people and called us limp dicks. “Yeah, Janet (God, I hope it’s not Janice), I get a real hard-on watching you kill people!”

Of course she does call on me: “Hans. Sweet Hans. I’m Janet”

(BOOM goes my brain. Sooo glad we got that name thing cleared up).

She leans close and whispers, “Here’s the thing Hans. I need you to do something for me. I like you so I’m letting you go first. You fail and I’ll go with my second choice. See that blur atop that mesa to the east? Well, try a closeup.” She hands me her field glasses. I focus them on the blur and am astonished to see her lying seductively on a towel staring back at me.

Yet she’s standing beside me.

And I’m falling. Sector 9A of my mind is screaming, “This is a bad dream! Bad dream! It’s a dream Bad dream! Bail out! Bail out!”

In the nick of time my mind control mechanism switches to Sector Jd: “Sshhh. You’re fine. It was just a bad dream. Wake up.”

I do. But I’m anything but fine. I’m now awake and drenched in sweat. I’m not okay. I don’t see how this will be a better day knowing ( oh god I think I’m getting sick!) I’ll eventually have to sleep.

I so hate Janet.