I don’t know if it was the fact that I’ve been working out harder than usual lately or that I am eating a lot of fish. Every once in a great while, in the middle of the night, I experience what I think of as phantom dive-bombers. In my twilight sleepiness, I become aware of something in the room dive-bombing my head. Typically, it’s some kind of bug that bears an uncanny resemblance to a bi-plane, but for the long, dwindly, trolling legs that drag behind it (the better to freak you out with). I open my eyes to the phantom closing in on it’s target; shades of my regular falling off a cliff dream. Jolt, twitch. And then later I wake up with that weird feeling where I don’t know what was real and what was imagined. There doesn’t seem to be a bi-plane bug in my house. Jonas, have you seen a bi-plane bug?
Last night, I fell asleep watching Miami Ink and, I kid you not, my phantom dive bomber was a tattoo.