Post Haste

I dreamed last night the weirdest dream of my life. I can't recall all the details, but I narrated a story that I could see taking place before my eyes, a sort of tragicomedy, I guess, for the characters were engaged in manual labor when the machine they were gathered around began to lose its parts, one after another, each part shooting off with water-pressured force, killing somebody and leaving the next victim in the line of fire, helpless to escape his fate. Even a curious anaconda slithered out to locate the commotion and became the last fatal victim.

I hate to admit it, but the whole thing had me laughing in my sleep . . .