...and I don't even eat cheese!

I had a very vivid dream last night, which is not particularly unusual....

However, I killed someone in the dream, which has never happened before.

To be honest, he started it. He was one of those Spanish men with swords who used to go around challenging people to duels, in like, the 1800s or whenever it was. 'Three Musketeers' style.

He didn't even challenge me, he just got his sword out and started, kinda like Johnny Depp in Pirates. The duel lasted quite a long time. We were in my kitchen, and I was standing on a chair, and he was on the floor, so I had the advantage of height, but the handicap of not being able to take a step either backwards or to the side (otherwise I would have fallen off the chair).

I kept on lunging and thrusting and whatever else it is you do in sword fights. We were quite equal when it came to skills, so it went on and on with not much progress, until eventually, I got a bit fed up (I distinctly remember feeling bored, and wishing he'd hurry up and die, because I was quite busy and had a lot to do), so started to put more effort in, and I managed to get my sword quite far into his right arm, which meant he had to switch his sword to his left arm, which was a lot weaker, and he couldn't block himself so well, so I stuck my sword in him a bit more, and he collapsed and ended up kinda sprawled across the kitchen floor.

I jumped down off the chair, and walked over to him, and he seemed to be twitching a bit, so I could tell he wasn't dead. I didn't want to get too close, in case he was just playing dead so I'd come near enough for him to skewer me on his sword.

Then, after that, it gets a bit hazy.

I think that he came round a bit and muttered something about me doing the honourable thing and killing him to put him out of his misery, but I'm not sure whether my conscious added that part after I woke up, so that my subconscious didn't seem so brutal. Either way, I picked up his sword and killed him with it.

Then I woke up, and thought, '.....I am such a loon....'


It probably says something about me.
Something along the lines of me (or at least, my subconscious) being profoundly, and possibly irreversably, screwed up.

When I told my immediate neighbours during registration, Debbie said, helpfully, that she'd read something about meanings of dreams, and that if you dream you've killed someone, it is symbolic of something far less sinister than actual murder, or even death. Unhelpfully, she couldn't remember what it was.
Phelan, on the other hand, seemed both impressed and pleasantly surprised. She's always dreaming about killing people, in ways far more gruesome than that, and apparently she didn't think I had it in me.

Fortunately, I stopped believing that dreams bear any relation to real life long ago.