Ray Bradbury says to write every day. Good advice. Or maybe it's an order. Whatever it is I will follow it.

I can recount a dream I had recently. I was my corporeal self (I'm not always strictly myself in dreams) and trapped in a large Ikea/Costco type store. Massive, multi-level, and no sign of an exit. I was being hunted by a giant humanoid dressed in a black coat and hat. The being was shaped like a man, proportionately, just 8 feet tall. Its face was white, blank, and expressionless. Like it was a plastic mask, but wasn't.

The store was huge, devoid of any other people, and only had safety lights on. I knew I was being hunted, and ran through the aisles, searching. Eventually I found a section that had some tools on display. I grabbed a large saw and held it in both hands, like a staff. I backed up against a wall and waited.

The being appeared directly in front of me. I glared into its flat, black eyes, raised my saw, and let out a hiss from the back of my throat, like a feral cat.

I awoke to the sound of my own hissing. So I guess that worked.