Stephen King sized that is . . . King sized DREAMS, of course.
Hubby tells me . . . you know better to read something that has KING as the author! . . . and I guess he’s right.
But there was just something so – well, so innocent about Duma Key. It wasn’t a jump and runner like Cujo – or Christine. I wasn’t immediately scared out of my wits. And, besides, I hadn’t read King in quite awhile.
He is more Lessa’s style. She has read (almost) everything he has written.
I finished Duma Key Saturday and passed it on to her Sunday.
But not before I had a restless, sleepless, dream-filled (when I could sleep) night. I attributed it to my legs being restless – and, yes, they had kept me wakeful most of the night.
But once I got to sleep . . . I was seeing weird images from that darned book. She hasn’t read that far, yet, so I’m not going to share the images here. But, if you have read it, think birds and yard jockeys. Yeah, that oughta do it for ya.
Did it for me.
interestingly enough, Lessa had shared a weird dream of her own with me just a few days before. It featured a
(image from this article on Fort McHenry)
Yup, a chamber pot . . . and her dream also included her running around carrying said chamber pot all the while using a cockney accent saying “I haven’t a pot to p**s in,” over and over.
Why yes, we ARE all about weird dreams in our family . . . like the one where daughters and I were checking out my (oh so badly needing a close shave) legs and cutting off STRANDS of hair from my legs.
No, my legs never get that much hair! Who KNOWS where THAT dream came from? I wasn’t reading King at the time.
Hi, I live in Alaska, I make my own fun. Care to join me?