what was I thinking?!

Yesterday morning I went to the lib on campus to get Ovid's "Metamorphose" [for a wee bit of light reading]. I found it in the computer catalogue, and went to find it on the shelf, but the numbering system here is so screwed up. It doesn't make any sense. At all. So, where Ovid was supposed to be, there was a book creatively titled, "The Boston Strangler."

I checked it out.


Seriously. Me. The freakiest, most paranoid person on the planet, checked out a book on the Boston Strangler! As if I were not already looking over my shoulder enough. I read twenty pages in cafeteria, and got so freezing cold from shaken nerves that I had to put on my jacket and buy food just to warm up.

I left "Amélie" playing in my dvd player all night, so there would be light and sound in the room, and I wouldn't think that a strangler was skulking in the shadows (or at least it would cover up the sound of his footsteps, heh).

But last night, I didn't dream about being strangled. I dreamed about the Russian Revolution, when Nicholas II was ousted and he and his family were murdered; in a woods in Russia, while searching for their remains, workers found a human finger. A finger. Ew. And that is true. Anyway, this finger had centre stage in my dream -- the guy who found it found another one, too, and was going to take them home and paint the fingernails and then put one on display in his house or something [sicko]. And just then when he was holding the fingers and cackling, and a cold chill went down my spine, I woke up, clutching my pillow to myself and seriously freaking out.