Personal Note: Er, what?

Dear Subconscious,

      Please do not schedule any more dreams involving my graduate school friends awakening an eldritch horror in the basement of my childhood home. Even with most of my higher neural functions in sleep mode, I knew that my previous pastor's cavalier attitude toward laying said horror to rest did not bode well, but I did not appreciate being left alone to poke it with a stick while reciting prayers in a hoarse whisper because my voice (as usual in these situations) had given out.

      I'm also pretty sure the basement of my childhood home is not contiguous with the downtown mall's eastern subway stop. And if it were, I wouldn't need to use the Peter Pan/Trailways bus station to get to work -- I could just stay on the subway. I guess it's just fortunate for me that the eldritch horror's power to cloud men's minds doesn't work on local transit workers ...

Sincerely,
nebroadwe