In which my dreams end badly for others.
I dreamed that mmerriam invited me to while away an afternoon with him and careswen at his "writer's retreat". This dilapidated urban shack, where he went when he needed to put his head down and just write, consisted of one sitting room (large enough for a couch, an armchair, and a writing desk) and one tiny kitchen. careswen paid a neighbor kid a couple bucks to wash dishes and clean the kitchen daily, so mmerriam wouldn't be distracted by such trivialities. The shack did not have a bathroom, so when Nature called, I went to the gas station next door.
The dream morphed into a variation on my standard public restroom nightmare. This bathroom was unisex and multi-stalled, and I was able, in surprisingly short order, to find a stall that was unoccupied, relatively clean, and possessed of a locking door. However, said door was too short, which allowed a malformed old letch (imagine the stretchy-faced Ash scene in Army of Darkness if Malcolm McDowell had played Ash) to repeatedly stick his head under the gap. When increasingly stentorian verbal warnings failed to deter him, I thrust my hand down toward his face and shoved. Hard. He said, "Ow."
In a voice surprisingly like leorathesane's.
I woke and realized that my dreamtime attempt to rid myself of a creep had resulted in shoving my waketime wife in the hip. Hard. Those of you familiar with the strength of my sleep paralyzation mechanism will be extra-impressed by this. Leora was not impressed. I apologized in the morning, by which point she'd forgotten the whole affair. I had not, and likely will not for some time, as creepy Malcolm McDowell is quite creepy.