In the apartment we lived in on Saturday night, Tobyjoe moved the toilet in our bathroom for a reason I am unsure of. We had a few faceless visitors over at the time. The apartment had wall-to-wall carpeting the kind of carpeting that contains puffy raised sections, like carpeted clouds seen from above. Intermixed with the raised sections were bits of recessions almost like bodies of water. As a matter of fact, if one were to fill the carpet with a half inch of water, and it wasn’t immediately absorbed, it would fill the recessions leaving the puffy parts to rise above like little islands.

While chatting with our visitors in the living room, I noticed that a few small roaches were heading our way, darting across the bumpy carpet like little balls of lint caught on a breeze. I saw them and ignored them for as long as I could which came with ease given the fact the apartment was predominantly brown and very dark. Eventually, they become more plentiful and the new ones were much larger; they were about the size of a large man’s open palm. They were coming out from a hole in the wall from behind the toilet. Tobyjoe kicked open the bathroom window in hopes of them running out through there instead of through the living room. As I watched him do this, I noticed a few dead turtles on the tile floor of the bathroom. They’d given up. I returned to the living room. The bugs continued running toward us. I stood on the sofa trying to get away from them all, our guests stood on the couch behind me. It was then I noticed our fish tank in the corner. I had forgotten about our fish tank.

We lifted books and threw them down onto the massive roaches. Each direct hit would punctuate with a loud crunching sound and then yellow goo would ooze out from below the heavy books like peanut butter between two crackers. And if I didn’t loathe roaches so much, I may have had fun.

Then, the beetles came and one of our guests new its arachnid name. I looked at him or her as if they were crazy. I couldn’t care less what type of massive beetle this was. Before I could scold them for caring about the beetle, the snakes came. I knew they should be kept alive because. They would eventually eat the bugs even though the bugs were much larger than the snakes. Tobyjoe took the snakes and then began throwing them into the fish tank. The snakes began to eat the fish.

I began to cry.

Last night, I lived in an apartment with red walls. The carpeting was brown. A girl came out of the bathroom and said, “There are snakes all over the walls.�

“They’re inchworms,â€? I said. “They’re only inchworms.”

“Oh� She answered. “Well, I don’t want to shower in there.�

I went into the bathroom and opened the bathroom window. I plucked the inchworms from the walls and threw them out the window. I knew their small bodies didn’t weigh enough that the impact might kill them. We lived on the third floor, after all.

“There’s something going on in the kitchen.� The girl said.

I went into the kitchen to find a man in there. He was standing on a white bucket.

“There are snakes everywhere.� He said to me, horrified. “I can’t work like this today.�

I looked at the walls to find slugs intertwined, slugs on top of slugs, slugs were everywhere, and their slime trails glistened along the dark red walls. They grew larger as they moved up toward the corners. There were hundreds of them. I looked to the floor and I saw giant slug. She had hundreds of legs which raised her wet body off the floor. From above, I saw that she was dropping smaller slugs onto the floor below her. She was horrifying. There was no way I could kill her. She was too big.

“Get off the bucket.�

“No.�

“Please get off the bucket.� I said.

“Fine. But I’m suing.�

I took the bucket and covered her with it.

I woke up.

Normally, I don’t talk or write about dreams because it’s really boring to hear about let alone read about. I know that I’ve been bored to tears while having to sit through hearing someone else’s boring dream. They’re not real. They’re totally personal. They lose every ounce of emotion and feeling and sensation through words. It’s a bore. But these are starting to disturb me and, quite honestly, I can’t figure out why it’s happening.

Toby thinks it might be the Internet and our many Web projects and my persistent desperation with all of them. (O.K., I added that last part.)

P.S. I’m boring and bored with my Internet self as of late. Perhaps I need a spring break. Perhaps it’s time to rebuild this bitch in Rails.