Posted:Sun Nov 8, 2009 7:32 PM CST
Mystery of the pillow
Somebody killed my pillow.
I woke up surrounded by feathers, my pillow was murdered, slashed open, it's innareds spread about the duvet like some sick intestinal art-work.
I woke spitting feathers that had somehow entered my mouth...
I think someone is trying to kill me...
The pillow?
Maybe, deep in slumber, the pillow had decided I had roughed it up enough, just to make it plump and squooshy to sleep on, that it had the idea to smother me.
In a sleep war, maybe I had strangled it, slashed at it with the penknife I have handy, and relaxed once the danger had passed...?
Or not.
I can't find any thread or a sewing needle around, and I was too weirded out to look intensely for some. So I pinned up the worst of the rips and tucked the pillow into two pillow cases.... body bags.
It was just another strange thing that had happened to me; waking up surrounded by feathers.
The fan blowing them around, like a warm snowfall.
I'm still picking feathers out of my hair and the floor, and even the cats.
I'd ask the cats about this, but they seem to be keeping silent, if they know something, they are not telling me.
Though I think I saw the kitten batting a feather around in the living room.
The rabbit looks suspicious.
( then again... I do remember marshmallows in my sleep...)