Was It Something I Ate?

I dreamed last night that I was at some type of beauty salon or something. Can�t remember exactly where. Everything was all white. If you live in Zuerich, it looked sort of like that chic-chic beauty villa that�s at the corner of Seestrasse and Hoeschgasse, I think.

The woman who was going to work on me called me into a room where there was a big mirror and asked me to sit in her chair. It looked just like your normal beauty salon chair. She strapped my arms to the arms of the chair and then my ankles. Then she started pasting little electrodes to my head. That�s when I realized that I wasn�t in a �normal� chair.

I was in an electric chair. It wasn�t your normal brown or yellow, wooden chair. This one was stark white, with chrome, like it came from usm. The window was for people to watch.

The electric chair and other forms of carrying out capital punishment scare me so badly that I become nauseous. I had more issues with the scene where P. Diddy got fried in Monster�s Ball than with Halle playing cowgirl with Billy Bob. Back in my radio days, one boss tried to sign me up for the Tennessee �execution lottery� in which members of the media are picked from a candidate pool to watch the grisly event.

I once did a story on a haunted house at a water park back in North Carolina. One room was the �death chamber�, complete with a dummy strapped in the chair getting fried. No one at the station understood why I was so upset about it. A couple of folks even found the fake death chamber funny. I couldn�t even watch the footage to write my story by.

Back to the dream. The funny part about it is that I didn�t freak while I was in the chair. I just kept asking the woman, �Before you kill me, can you please tell me what I did wrong?� She wouldn�t answer.

I actually felt the current go through my body when she pulled the switch. I didn�t hurt. It just felt weird. The woman who pulled the switch kept looking at my face to see if I was dead yet.

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