Have you ever read something or seen a movie and later, your mind just plagiarizes the thing in a dream? I hate that. I really do ~ especially when it wasn't that spectacular of a book to begin with.

I just finished David Ambrose's Superstition. It is about a group who decide to create a ghost from scratch as an experiment and of course, the experiment goes horribly, horribly wrong. There is a scene in the book where one of the main characters is in her apartment one night and the ghost, of course, arrives. My thieving and thoroughly unoriginal mind stole nearly the whole thing this morning. It simply fit the scene to my situation. Here's what happened in the dream:

I come home after spending the day with my mom and it is dark in the house. I walk through the house and go upstairs without turning a light on. Once I reach the top of the stairs though, I reach for the lightswitch. I flip it several times, thinking that I hit the wrong one (the one with the burned out bulb) ~ neither switch seems to work. I turn to my right and see an old green and white flashlight (the kind that uses the big, bulky rectangular battery) ~ I pick it up and sweep the rooms upstairs with it's beam. In the studio, next to the coffee maker, I can see a person dressed in white. I think that it is C.M., since the figure has a body shape and long hair like his. I ask, "You've been standing there all this time?" to which the figure begins to move toward me. As it does, it continues to look like C.M., with a look on his face that is angrier than I've ever seen him. I say, "What's wrong? What? Oh no..." It seems to take him forever to reach me, even though it is only a few steps. When he does, I see that what I've been seeing is a white mask and I'm no longer sure who it is that I'm seeing. I only know that I am terrified.

I hate to admit this, I really do. What I hate to admit is that I am an idiot. It took me laying in bed wondering if it was 'only a dream'; getting up, brewing a pot of tea, going to the bathroom, performing the Lesser Banishing Ritual (twice even! Ugh!) and writing the dream down in my paper journal while finishing half of the first cup of said tea before it hit me that this was a stupid recreation. An reenactment. Plagiarism!

Damn it ~ I'm going back to bed. Consider this an act of rebellion.