Who invited brown bears into my head while I was sleeping? I really don’t like you, whoever you are.

It was around 3 a.m. this morning when I was first chased through a field by a big brown bear. It must have been a momma bear, and maybe I was too close to her cub – who wasn’t too far behind. I climbed on top of the house, which was like a dollhouse where the top is removable and you can reach down into the rooms, you know? So here I am, scaling the walls and climbing on the top, completely forgetting that bears can climb, too. Doh.

The bear was suddenly distracted by something beefy and warm in another room, and off it went. I climbed down into a room and still felt the presence of this mad bear, so I tried to find it. I weaved in and out of rooms and hallways, and peeked through a door that was cracked open just a little bit and saw the bear inside. I decided I was going to make friends. I opened up the door and cautiously walked in, talking calmly to the bear and only stepping forward when I got the feeling from it that it was ok. Eventually me and the bear were hugging and it was like a pet. Bears are my friend. I think it even licked my cheek. Aww.

And then some woman took over, the bear was gone, and I was in a yellow room filled with books, and she was telling me all the things she knew about my husband.

So much for a good night of sleep, eh? If I had a stenographer in my head recording my dreams at night, I’d be selling short stories. Or short nightmares, or maybe even a psychoanalysts study guide.