Plunging a pair of scissors into my leg

Worked late last night. Got back home, had dinner with the midnight moon for company, and watched a foreign variety show on TV. The host was interviewing an all-girls pop group, and then arranged for a well-built guy clad only in his swimming trunks to parade in front of them. Hmm. For a brief moment, I felt envious of the guy's physique and the attention that he was receiving from the gals. Then I realised vanity was raging loose in my life, and that I needed to kill it. That I have not succeeded in doing so was a sober reminder of my fallen and sinful nature, and my desperate need for Christ.

This morning, I woke up from a bad dream. Not the first time that I've had a dream along this particular recurrent theme - I'm taking a ride on the public bus. There's a bloke (usually a benign-looking middle-aged gentleman) seated beside me. Then, for no particular, he swipes out a pair of scissors (or a penknife, depending on the dream), and begins to attack me with it, plunging the weapon in my limbs and torso. And then I am roughly jolted out of my sleep.

I wouldn't exactly say that I'm freaked out by these dreams, but they're certainly not something pleasant to wake up from. Definitely not today anyway. They belong to a totally different category from the "I'm falling down a cliff" dreams.

TV shows and dreams aside, it's time to focus back on reality. I wonder what I should do today. I had managed to do some weight training on my legs on Thursday (squats, lunges, leg curls) - thanks Shutehelup for the inspiration - and if all goes well, I will be leading some runners for a 20-km adventure tomorrow.

I have this sudden urge to read something. But I don't know what. It's a very, very odd feeling.