Parasite Paracord
Sometimes you really have to wonder how the human brain works.
I don’t remember how the dream started, but there I am standing on my uncle’s back porch gripping the head of my sleeping bag. A life sucking alien parasite has camouflaged itself as a thirty foot length of paracord and has attached itself to the foot of my sleeping bag with the clear intent of sucking the life out of me while I sleep. I rush around the house to a large ornamental fire pit. The kind that is a satellite shaped metal grate with metal art of deer and elk and such around the base. I toss the parasite-paracord alien into the grate still attached to my sleeping bag and search my pockets for a lighter.
The alien is doing a really good impression of paracord all things considered. Only it is about three times too thick, a little worn in places and changes from color to color along its length. Also it keeps moving a little.
I find a battered blue lighter in my pocket. I frown. I am worried it won’t light. Firstly I am not skilled at getting the kind with the traditional metal thumb switch to light. It hurts my thumb. Secondly I seem to remember that this is either the lighter I found under a snowbank or the one that went through the washer.
I glance nervously at the coiled paracord-parasite in the fire pit. When I glance back at the lighter it is not only lit but the entire top is in flame and it has set some surrounding flammables on fire. I suspect I should be concerned about a possible explosion but decide that the still moving parasite is the larger concern. I hold the flaming lighter under the grate and catch the coiled body of the paracord-parasite on fire.
It lights easily and burns like any nylon would. I watch it burn with relief until I feel the searing pain in my left hand. (Whoever says you can’t feel pain in your dreams is crazy.) I glance over and to my horror the other end of the paracord-parasite has latched itself onto my hand. I go to knock it off but there are a few problems. First of all my right hand is still holding the flaming lighter. I don’t want to just get my right hand trapped against the parasite as well.
I should find a stick or something to knock it off of my hand because not only is it sucking the life out of me it is on fire.
Then my alarm clock went off. Just a dream. Right, no problem. Except this is the first time in weeks I actually slept till my alarm clock went off. I usually wake about ten minutes before. Then my arms and legs felt like lead. I was utterly exhausted at the start of the day. I made it (late) to work and laughed about it with my crewmates. Then because of the type of shirt I wear I got a tan line across my hand in the exact place the dream paracord-parasite had grabbed me.
The human brain is a funny thing.
Paracord: Parachute cord, paracord, para-cord or 550 cord are all names to describe a lightweight nylon kernmantle rope originally used as suspension lines of U.S. parachutes. The 550 cord consists of a 32 strand woven nylon outer sheath with an inner core of seven, 2 ply nylon yarns.
Sometimes you really have to wonder how the human brain works.
I don’t remember how the dream started, but there I am standing on my uncle’s back porch gripping the head of my sleeping bag. A life sucking alien parasite has camouflaged itself as a thirty foot length of paracord and has attached itself to the foot of my sleeping bag with the clear intent of sucking the life out of me while I sleep. I rush around the house to a large ornamental fire pit. The kind that is a satellite shaped metal grate with metal art of deer and elk and such around the base. I toss the parasite-paracord alien into the grate still attached to my sleeping bag and search my pockets for a lighter.
The alien is doing a really good impression of paracord all things considered. Only it is about three times too thick, a little worn in places and changes from color to color along its length. Also it keeps moving a little.
I find a battered blue lighter in my pocket. I frown. I am worried it won’t light. Firstly I am not skilled at getting the kind with the traditional metal thumb switch to light. It hurts my thumb. Secondly I seem to remember that this is either the lighter I found under a snowbank or the one that went through the washer.
I glance nervously at the coiled paracord-parasite in the fire pit. When I glance back at the lighter it is not only lit but the entire top is in flame and it has set some surrounding flammables on fire. I suspect I should be concerned about a possible explosion but decide that the still moving parasite is the larger concern. I hold the flaming lighter under the grate and catch the coiled body of the paracord-parasite on fire.
It lights easily and burns like any nylon would. I watch it burn with relief until I feel the searing pain in my left hand. (Whoever says you can’t feel pain in your dreams is crazy.) I glance over and to my horror the other end of the paracord-parasite has latched itself onto my hand. I go to knock it off but there are a few problems. First of all my right hand is still holding the flaming lighter. I don’t want to just get my right hand trapped against the parasite as well.
I should find a stick or something to knock it off of my hand because not only is it sucking the life out of me it is on fire.
Then my alarm clock went off. Just a dream. Right, no problem. Except this is the first time in weeks I actually slept till my alarm clock went off. I usually wake about ten minutes before. Then my arms and legs felt like lead. I was utterly exhausted at the start of the day. I made it (late) to work and laughed about it with my crewmates. Then because of the type of shirt I wear I got a tan line across my hand in the exact place the dream paracord-parasite had grabbed me.
The human brain is a funny thing.
Paracord: Parachute cord, paracord, para-cord or 550 cord are all names to describe a lightweight nylon kernmantle rope originally used as suspension lines of U.S. parachutes. The 550 cord consists of a 32 strand woven nylon outer sheath with an inner core of seven, 2 ply nylon yarns.
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