In Dreams...

This morning, I dreamed I was in a movie based upon a nonexistant Stephen King novel. I knew I was living in a movie, but didn't realize I was dreaming. At some point (the only part I remember well) I stood in a park where somebody's pet pig wandered about the background. Two state patrolmen interviewed an old lady who was hitchhiking home and got a ride with a strange person in a muscle car. He drove like a maniac, then came to a screeching halt and booted her from the car before taking off again and committing suicide. The police found no trace of his car, although they did find a dessicated corpse in the center of the burned crash site.

The skull split open and some brownish appendages began to ooze outward, slowing pawing the air. One of the cops said they looked like feces (only using more colorful language), although I thought they looked like sausages (close enough). The javelina trotted over and began to eat the fecesages growing from the crumbling corpse. The porker then backed away, jaw slowly dropping, and a similar set of appendages began to grow from its mouth. The pigs (all three of them) started yarking, then the old woman barfed, and I knew the script called for me to throw up next. I realized I was dreaming just in time to choke back my gorge. Strange sensation, waking without opening my eyes. I lay in bed, eyes shut and waiting for my stomach to calm so I could go back to sleep.

If there was a point to all of this, I've forgotten it.