Don’t Poke the Bear…or Me

ghost-156969_640As far as dreams go, last night’s was pretty tame compared to my usual nightmares.  It was pretty weird actually.  There was this tall and dark intruder who wheeled a suitcase around and was in the apartment I lived in at 14 when we first moved to Texas while waiting for our house to be built.  But he didn’t hold a gun or a knife to me.  HE FREAKING POKED MY UPPER SIDE/REAR RIB CAGE.  And it shook me awake because I HATE being tickled.  Apparently I hate it so bad that I have nightmares about it.  Enough to wake me up more than once throughout the night feeling as if someone had poked the backside of my rib cage to tickle me.  Totally bizarre.  People who do that to me in real life tend to get the knee-jerk reaction of a back hand to wherever my fist lands.  I guess being ticklish is something I never outgrew.  Maybe because I didn’t have cruel older brothers that pinned me town and tickled me until I was immune to it.  For that I’m thankful. But, for today I’ll just spend the rest of the day looking over my shoulder to make sure nobody is going to come up behind me and poke me.

4 thoughts on “Don’t Poke the Bear…or Me

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