DREAM
I was going to be killed by an Anthony Hopkins/Jack Nicholson character with a Polish last name. I knew it, he knew it, the lady scientist who was setting up the injection needle for him (while simultaneously trying to save me?) knew it, and Paul Buchanan knew it--no one else. He was making it look like some kind of ground-breaking experiment. At the beginning he's writing on a chalkboard. Then he has to leave the room for a bit, so I start drawing with Paul; I think we were trying to come up with a plan. When he comes back, we make it look all innocent and stuff. Then we leave, heading to the injection room, when he falls on his coccyus (tailbone). He's an older guy, so it could be serious, so I go outside to call 911 (I couldn't get reception on the 6th floor of College Library, which is where we were). Not only was I calling 911 to help him, but also to make the proper authorities aware of my situation. Of course the operator didn't believe my story. The guy felt better, so he was walking around at this point; I started debating with myself if it would be better to play along with him, act all nice and willing, until I got a chance to escape, or to take my chance now and make a run for it. Then I started planning how, when we go in the elevator, how, since he's old, I could push him out at the last second.
In other news, I've developed a gross cough. Don't know how. Liz and I got sick at the exact same time. And I've never had more than one cold in a season. Ugh.
In other news, I've developed a gross cough. Don't know how. Liz and I got sick at the exact same time. And I've never had more than one cold in a season. Ugh.