The 411 on Michael Parson.
So it happens occasionally that I have bizarre dreams I don't understand, including people I haven't thought about in years. As it stands, this time it was Michael Parson, who I'd gone to school with since kindergarten.
In said dream, he was in a car accident. A bad one. I didn't see it, but I was going to the funeral. Not so bizarre yet. It was open casket, and I really, really didn't want to go over there because I just in general don't like staring at dead bodies on display. So I didn't, but I could still see the bruises and cuts pretty clearly from across the room. I guess what turns out to be the creepiest part of the whole thing is that he wasn't dead yet, but pretty damn close and they just thought it would save time to throw him in there early and have the services.
And then at some random point later, I remember I was carrying one end of a blue stretcher with Michael lying face down on it, dead. To where, I don't know. Why? A better question with no answer. Just... creepy.
In said dream, he was in a car accident. A bad one. I didn't see it, but I was going to the funeral. Not so bizarre yet. It was open casket, and I really, really didn't want to go over there because I just in general don't like staring at dead bodies on display. So I didn't, but I could still see the bruises and cuts pretty clearly from across the room. I guess what turns out to be the creepiest part of the whole thing is that he wasn't dead yet, but pretty damn close and they just thought it would save time to throw him in there early and have the services.
And then at some random point later, I remember I was carrying one end of a blue stretcher with Michael lying face down on it, dead. To where, I don't know. Why? A better question with no answer. Just... creepy.