I think I got the point already, thank you.

Okay, so. A year and a half later, I am still having nightmares about the guy in charge of the Public Affairs Scholars' program.

I shouldn't be, but I am.

I mean, I get it. Yes. Thank you. Either (a) he hates me and he wants me dead, or (b) I'm totally fucking insane. Either way, I get the point.

So, I had another dream a couple nights ago. It was in the "him trying to kill me" vein.

Just a bit of back story, first: We were all required to go to a mandatory barbeque at his house. I mean, don't get me wrong, it was a nice barbeque, and it was fun wandering around his backyard talking to the upperclassman about stuff... and the volleyball game was fun (if not totally unfair) -- but, nonetheless, that's where this dream starts.

So, I, and two people that I've never met in real life but who are in fact my cohorts in the program are sitting in his living room (though, if it really is his living room, he's remodelled since).

We're talking.

About stuff.

Mostly politics.

The boring kind.

And all of a sudden, the guy in charge of the program comes bounding in, and starts rambling on about some delicate porcelain figure that got broken.

And none of us know anything about it, because we were sitting in the corner talking about politics.

So he leaves, and we go back to the conversation.

Next thing we know, he comes back, and starts yelling at us about how rude it is for us, as guests, to break his shit -- his words exactly. Incidentally, he also had a crossbow in his hand.

We explain that we don't know anything about any little figurines getting broken.

He leaves.

We go back to our conversation.

All of a sudden, we notice this delicate porcelain figurine on the shelf. And we all turn just in time to watch it explode into dust. Like, the only discernable part left was one of its hands.

And the guy in charge comes back, and he's pissed, and he starts yelling, and shooting bolts out of the crossbow.


Seriously, what the fuck?