Last night I spent the whole sleep cycle dreaming that the infamous Jason Voorhees was trying to kill me. That was pretty weird. I’m not really afraid of that dude like at all. I love the Friday the 13th movies because they’re cheesy fun. For whatever reason, he was far more threatening in my dream, even going as far as to change shape and become a crafty, gray haired man who could blend into the background and creatively think his way out of any situation. Maybe I’m stressed. Maybe the date has a 13 in it and that somehow affected my subconscious mind. I can’t say. The world is full of mystery.
Yesterday I managed to slow my mind down and focus on just a couple of sentences, and they were damn good sentences. Today I feel a bit like I’m looking at the world through goggles, so maybe I won’t write at all, or maybe I’ll limit myself to three sentences. I’ll meditate on The Beach Knight and write his adventures like a haiku. If my dreams are any indication, I’m probably stressed, so I think I’ll pedal back on word count expectations today.
May all of your slashers be friendly and cheesy. Happy 13th.
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