I woke up to my alarm clock with mixed feelings this morning. For some reason I couldn’t pinpoint I felt like a total jerk even though I hadn’t done a single thing yet that day. Then my dream of the night before started to come back in bits and pieces while I was brushing my teeth. Amazing, horrible, and wonderful bits and pieces. This may be a testament to the fact I watch far too many horror movies but here, at least what I remember of it is what I will forever forward call “The Werewolf Dream”.

The dream began with me leading a large group of grandmas over the cusp of a cliff. Apparently we were returning from a shopping trip but had an extreme sense of urgency. I was directing them to a large garage behind a house and insisting they go inside. However, they did not listen to me and began to meander through a garden outside of the garage exclaiming over flowers and getting me very very angry. I decided to go inside and double-check the locks on the garage doors. The locks themselves are sound but can not be activated because the door is too small for the frame it is sitting in so it just swings freely back and forth. At that point I loudly exclaim “Fuck it”, leave the grandmas to their fate, and head toward the house.

I come up a small set of wooden steps that leads to a porch with a back door to the house. I am met by a wild-eyed and disheveled young woman probably sixteen or so holding a very large knife. She informs me in a very distressed manner that there are “seven of them inside”. So I take her weapon from her and hide in the space beneath the wooden steps. Suddenly a large werewolf comes out of the door, grabs the girl, and begins to rip her to pieces right above where I am standing. This is where I am a gigantic asshole because I feel zero remorse for taking the poor girl’s only weapon from her, and just watch with a detached sense of fear and anticipation. I am awesome like that I guess.

Suddenly the werewolf jumps down next to the wooden steps and lands on my foot. Despite myself my first instinct is to draw it back towards myself so it realizes something is underneath the steps. It leans down and begins to look under the steps so I stab the fucker about fourteen times in the face and eyes. Blood starts spurting everywhere and I smugly tell myself that “the best way to kill a werewolf is to stab it in the face so the brain will become flooded with blood and their body shuts down.” I do not think that actually works on anything ever, but this is a dream so I just rolled with it.

I left the knife in the head of the werewolf and decided to check out the house. As I walk into the first room there are two other young women in a state of distress sitting in a corner clutching one another. I tell them to get up we have to lock and barricade the doors and they immediately jump up. While I am checking the doors I notice there is no lock, or even proper handles on these doors and start to get concerned. The girls and I decide to just barricade the door instead but all of the furniture is spindly and weightless stuff. I begin to think that maybe this is all on purpose, and abandon the girls to fend for themselves after taking the knife out of one of the girl’s hands and giving her a smaller kitchen knife with a handle in the shape of a bright yellow shark.

Then I woke up.

Was this a reflection on my personality? I don’t know. But what I do know is this story had a moral, and that moral is:

If werewolves ever attack, you do not want me to be guarding your back because I will just steal your weapon and leave you to die.