I kicked his ass, at least.
Later the dreams turned decidedly Sci Fi, when I was a woman (???) possessed by a "good" alien being hunted by invading hoards of "bad" aliens possessing other people. They had the house surrounded, and they came in... intent on eating me alive. The leader had started by eating my face, so it was with great relief I managed to shift perspective.
Waking up feeling like I really HAD been chewed up and spit out alive, I had an experience so odd that I was sure that I had dreamt it, yet Michele was able to confirm bits of it.
LoveChild (who wasn't amused when I last spelt her name with a trailing "E") was standing in the window above the bed, licking the screen. She looks at me intently, then moves to the OTHER screen, and does the some thing. Still groggy, she then moves to the night table and makes biting motions at the laundry basket.
Being groggy helped: I realized she was pantomiming "I'm hungry and there's no food in the dish!", so I got up. She promptly ran ahead of me, and sure enough her dish WAS empty. It wasn't until after I filled it and wandered off to check my mail that it struck me as odd that a cat was communicating with me.
Which brings us to about now, when I received a phone call from my friend Debbie in L.A. It had been ages since we chatted (since right after the "Fat Girls and Feeders" documentary done by ITV in the UK), so I was delighted to hear from her. Then it got... you guessed it! Weird.
Apparently she was being interviewed by German TV, and they had just watched the aforementioned Documentary. They're going to call me tomorrow to interview me early next week up here... probably SF. So it looks like my mug is going to grace european TV for the second time this year.
Now if only Graham Norton would return my calls.
Most peculiar, momma.