Way too long ago I was awakened in the middle of the night by my then-partner. She’d just been roused by hearing me say, in the most sepulchral tones, “Death. Death. Yooouur death.”
Not pictured: anything my dream-self fears, apparently
I explained that in my dream I had merely been threatening a vampire that was ill-advised enough to menace me. No biggie.
For some reason she seemed little reassured.
But hey. My dream-self obviously takes no shit. Off nobody.
As to why that came back to me today, I have no idea.
In other news, a friend of mine took me shooting today for the first time in … too long. Thanks!
Had fun. Did not disgrace myself.
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Shooting. I’ve done that… once. Popping a few caps into 2-liter bottles and such is truly fun.
Wouldn’t want to have to do that if my life depended on it… but it’s reassuring to know that if one had to, one could.
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Sadly, the one lesson we learned on this shooting trip was that while I am barely passable with my $1000 dollar high tech semi-auto pistol, I am Annie Oakley with my wife’s cheap five shot snub nosed revolver.
I’m not sure what it means when your skill level decreases as the quality of your tools increases.
Maybe it says more about the difference between expectation and reality in regard to the quality of your tools.
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The problem was definitely with the operator, not the equipment.
Maybe in this case.
But higher-tech isn’t necessarily better tech.
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