Ah, yes, the world of May Vane’s dreams: places where people with wings are everywhere, 1st graders are chased by a giant malevolent version of the GEICO lizard in their grandma’s basements, and piercing studios are virtually nonexistent. There’s always a thumping that just happens to be exactly on-beat with the footsteps of whatever villain happens to be chasing me that particular night. (The thumping hasn’t happened for a few years now, however.) There’s almost always somebody who’s obsessed with stretching their ears to almost-Bear proportions, and their friend is the one who befriends you and ends up later attempting to kill you, which they can’t do because you’re always getting away by attempting to fly (which isn’t really flying for some reason, but more like moon jumping) into a tree or something that they hopefully can’t climb. The only real way to escape, of course, is to wake up.
Sometimes, however, the dreams end up being in a whole different universe: either I’m in a surgical suite, about to be sedated and operated on, or I’m in a sensory-deprivation tank, or I’m falling forever through nothing. Kinda makes me wonder if I should really be taking all those melatonins before bed.