I’ve been having some fairly vivid dreams lately, and last night was no exception.

With the lack of quality television programming, Neil and I have been using the hell out of our Netflix streaming. Let me take a moment to say how much I love Netflix. While you can’t get EVERYTHING via the streaming mode, there is still a large variety of new and old shows. For the past two months, we’ve been working our way through the early 90’s series, Twin Peaks.

The show revolves around Kyle McLaughlin, who plays the character Agent Dale Cooper.


 If you don’t recognize the photo above, you’d probably remember him as “Orson” from Desperate Housewives, his more recent endeavor.


An FBI agent who arrives at a small Washington town just south of the Canadian border, Agent Cooper begins to investigate the murder of a teenage girl, Laura Palmer. There are a plethora of characters. At times I found it hard to keep up with who was who, and their lives all seem to intertwine together (think Heroes meets Days or Our Lives). There’s a lady who carries around a log that speaks through her, a 35 year old woman who thinks she’s 18 and has super human strength, and a fairly incompetent sheriff with an extremely dopey deputy. To top it off, everyone is sleeping with someone who is not their spouse or significant other.

But there’s one character that is pure evil. His name is Bob. Bob is hard to describe without watching the show. He’s a spirit of sorts, that inhabits the bodies of different characters throughout the series. You don’t seem him often, but when you do, bad things happen. Really bad things. This is Bob:


What? You don’t think he looks scary enough. Trust me, in the context of the show, this man is a horrifying creature.

Which brings me to the topic of this post. Last night, very late, we finished the very last episode of Twin Peaks. It was one of those endings that leaves you with more questions than answers. Combine a terrifying ending with the stuff I read about the cemetery across the street being haunted… I somewhat jokingly told my husband that I didn’t want to go to sleep, because I was afraid of having nightmares. Yes, a 29 year old woman is afraid of spooks.

Well, it happened. I was in my bed sleeping, when different people in my life came through the bedroom and attempted to attack me as Bob. I don’t remember who, but they were certainly loved ones. It was scary beyond words. At one point, I realized in my dream that this couldn’t be real, and tried to wake myself up, but it didn’t work. The last Bob attack came from my beloved cat Sadie (aka “fat kitty”). Seeing something so precious and sweet to me become so vicious sent me over the edge. I awoke drenched, literally, in sweat. I sat there for a few minutes contemplating what had just occurred in my head, then had to get out of bed to vomit. I kid you not. I can’t remember being so horrified by a nightmare that I felt nauseated and vomited, even in my childhood.

I woke Neil up in tears, described briefly to him what happened, and went out to the couch to watch TV. I did not want to go back to bed, for fear that I would dream of Bob again. Thankfully, I didn’t… but I did lay on the couch for about 2 hours watching Diners, Drive-ins & Dives to get my mind off the shit-show it had created in my sleep.

Have you ever had a dream that resulted in something similar? I can’t believe that as a grown woman I could be such a baby about the whole thing, but as I said before, words can’t describe the horror of this nightmare.

Hopefully, tonight is not a repeat.