Last week, though, I had a nightmare, something about bugs or spiders, maybe a wasp; yeah, I think that's what it was.  For some reason I always have bad dreams about things with stingers, trying to get around them, flick them off gracefully, only to get stung in the end. It's at that part, the stinging point, that I wake myself up thrashing beneath the covers.  I think I must of smacked John in the face the other night, because I woke up to him holding me, saying everything was going to be all right, nothing was going to get me.  I didn't have the heart to tell him it was only a wasp.

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