I had two very disturbing dreams last night. In the first I was a young father having a backyard birthday party for a little daughter, when suddenly air-raid sirens started going off and we watched a massive arial battle commence above our heads. Planes of many different kinds we zigzagging and dogfighting, and then big planes were streaking through, dropping all-white-clad paracheuters across our neighborhood. Men with guns and masks and bad intentions. "Are they going to kill us Daddy?" Trying to be brave. Get the kids in the basement. Stress. Weakness. Terror. Why don't I own a gun? I woke up seconds later, palatably afraid.

The second dream was of a smilar military nature, but had a more structured plot. I can't recall the details, but it was also highly agitating. It's been a while since I've had bonafide nightmares like that. Am I finally suffering the feedback from the cuture of fear?

Also, it must now officially be spring: I have misquito bites. Any guesses as to how long before the West Nile media distress machine ramps up? Oh God, another flu-like virus that can kill people with feeble immune systems! Damn you Saddam!