The Nightmare On Elm Street Poster Is Not That Nightmare-y-ish
Huh. Welcome to my new nightmare? Because my new nightmare looks an awful lot like my old nightmare. I’m not saying that I don’t appreciate the effort! But, I mean, I used to have this nightmare about a guy in a moth-eaten sweater and a Panama hat wearing finger-knife-gloves, and now here is a guy in a moth-eaten sweater and a Panama hat wearing finger-knife-gloves, so. Actually, what type of hat is that? I’m not a hat expert. It’s funny that there are so many different names for hats, when you think about it. Oh right, my nightmare. The point is, it’s like the old saying goes: finger-knife-gloves is finger-knife-gloves is finger-knife-gloves. You know? Like, when I see those finger-knife-gloves coming for me, I’m mostly pretty focused on running away, so I’m sorry if I don’t recognize that he is wearing this season’s finger-knife-gloves, or whatever.
Also, this is so not my nightmare. My nightmare involves, like, partial paralysis and maybe a little bit of permanent brain damage after a serious car accident, leaving me with a fully functioning mind trapped inside of a broken body. It would probably happen on, like, a tropical vacation, too, you know? Like right when you least expect it. And then you’ve got the weird guilt about ruining your loved ones’ vacation, which you know is not what is important right now, because what is important is dealing with this medical emergency and everyone is focused on that, but you can’t help but feel guilty in a weird way. And now also your trust in everything is just shaken, and you have this morbid fear of the simple fact that life as you know it can literally turn on a dime, and your entire world can come tumbling down around your head, and there is absolutely nothing that could have been done to change anything, no matter how hard you recalculate the devastating scenario in your head. And you start to wonder if fate is real, but how if it is real, and this is yours, that it is now a depressing force in the world, not the magical one for which you had always carried a secret hope. That is my new nightmare. You’re welcome.
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