As of late, I've been dreading sleep. My dreams are plagued with scorpions. I know exactly what brought it on too....the stupid local news. I guess there has been an influx of pests moving indoors due to the exceptional drought conditions. That night, I wanted to sleep standing up. There is no adjective in the English language that can accurately describe my fear of scorpions.
This is basically a fear of the unknown, since I have never in my life been stung by a scorpion. They just look prehistoric and deadly, so they scare me.
*Side Note: Scorpions will sting you. They do not bite. I hate it when people say "A scorpion bit me on the bottom of my foot." NO! They have stingers. Not teeth. They may have teeth....I don't know. I don't care! I am not going to get close enough to investigate. Just get it straight people. Scorpions sting... with venom. And it hurts.
The last live scorpion I personally witnessed was in September 2010 at Evil Lynn's home. I was in flip flops, enjoying my seventh Southern Comfort & Diet Coke, taking a social break from the all girl Poker Tournament, when I saw the biggest prehistoric atrocity I've ever laid eyes upon, emerge from the space between two boards on the porch, and run straight for my vulnerable toes. I think it was attracted to the freshly polished toe nails. Who knew scorpions liked OPI's "I ate berries in the canaries"?
It spoke to me. It did. As it ran towards my big toe, it clicked in morse code with it's little pinchers... "I will get you my pretty! And your perfectly painted toes too." This is when I frantically began texting Shark to come pick me up. He asked if I was knocked out of the poker tournament and I replied with a one word answer....
And Shark was immediately on his way. So now, each night, I seal the dog door, refuse to sit in the chair by the dog door, because it is near the one spot where I am pretty sure a scorpion can enter the house. I check the bed before I get in, and I sleep in short 2 to 3 hour increments because I have to get up, slip on flip flops and re-check the bed.
Once I am satisfied there is no immediate scorpion menace, I will eventually fall back to sleep. This is soon to be interrupted by bad tattoo work. I've repeatedly dreamed that I have offered my left arm as a drawing board for someone's ideas. In both dreams, I have been unhappy with the work done and the fact that it more or less sleeved the entire arm and stretched down to the fingers. I was horrified! I love my tattoos, but I have them in spots where they can only be on display when I so choose. Obviously I think highly enough of my tattoo artist to allow him to permanently alter my skins natural state for eternity.
So why would I be dreaming of such horrors? When one gets new ink, this opens the door to a slew of other's horror stories. Either that...or unsolicited sales pitches for someone else's tattoo artist. This is often followed by the sliding up of a sleeve, or the lifting of a shirt, to expose a faded and often blurred monstrosity. This also puts me in the position where I have to smile, nod, and politely utter "Oh my. Isn't that lovely?" The next comment to come out of the unlucky individual's mouth is usually, "Yep! And my guy is so cheap!"
Hmm. You don't say....
An exterminator is scheduled to spray the house tomorrow afternoon. This should alleviate my fear of the zombie scorpion apocalypse. I don't know what I'm going to do about the tattoo dreams. The jagged two toned and crooked angel wings are the worst.