Missing Goldie Hawn, My Inner CEO

I felt the snout of a dog on my cheek, dangerously close to the ear canal. I start awake to the face of one of the largest, hairiest dogs I’ve ever seen. He was as long as a hot dog, and the shag was white with gray splotches. He was friendly-looking, too, but that did not dissuade my innate fear of canines.

Sleep tried to pull me back in. I was sleeping in an unfamiliar place, and I knew that the dog was likewise unfamiliar, therefore possibly dangerous, and potentially out of place entirely. Shouldn’t I start myself awake to secure the perimeter, so to speak?

Anxiety proved no match for Sleep, for I hadn’t really woken up anyway, and I had been in the middle of a muddle of dreams. I was drawn back in, to awake later to the realization that there had no been no dog, and if only I was better at recognizing False Awakenings, I would have had a lovely lucid dream experience. And perhaps I could have asked Goldie where she’s been, and to ask her to speak up more often.

One should never fire their Inner C.E.O. and hire their best friend. No offense, g..

Holla

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