I don't even remember how this came about, but a few days ago my mom and I were talking about nightmares. I said that most of the dreams that I actually remember (which is a pretty small number) are what most people would probably consider nightmares. Usually I seem to dream about awful things happening. Yet, I don't mind them the way I imagine most people do. The truth is, my real life is so fucking boring that I would rather be chased by a serial killer or something than wake up and do fucking dishes, and laundry, and whatever other meaningless bullshit I have planned for that day. This is not a healthy attitude. Oh well, at least I still have a few Deadpool comics left to read, and they released the trailer for Supernatural season 11. As long as I can immerse myself in enough fiction, I can usually (usually) tune out real-life enough to get through the day.