Sweet dreams are NOT made of these

I hate scary movies. Yes, I'm a chicken little. Anything involving monsters, murders and saws freaks me out to no end. Every time a commercial for a scary movie comes on, I rush to the remote to change the channel. So now that this new Nightmare on Elm Street (FYI I'm shuddering at just typing the name and lifting my feet up from the side of the bed) is coming out, I've thoroughly become the little kid who checks her closet before going to sleep.

Now, I never dream. Or I should say, I never did dream - up until now. Pregnancy brings on a whole new meaning to 'active imagination.' Instead of dreaming up pictures of cute little infants in my head during my REM cycle, I'm running away from Freddie Kruger (OMG, I said his name! ::hides under covers::). Last night at around 3:45am I had to pee so bad, but I had just woken from Freddie grabbing me. I looked around the room, noticed I was fine and said to myself, "Stop being a dork, go pee." Then I said to myself, "No! What are you stupid? He's hiding behind the shower curtain!" So, of course, like any rational 25 year old adult, I stayed in bed wiggling because I had to pee so bad. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my very own pregnancy derived opportunity cost. The cost of getting up and possibly being attacked by a FAKE character outweighed the possibility of a UTI. Eventually the fact that I may pee in the bed came about and I had no choice but to get up and urinate (I swear I heard my bladder sigh in relief). No monster grabbed me from behind the shower curtain, nothing was waiting for me by the window and I got back into bed safely and soundly.

I still hate scary movies, though.