You say you want perfection? Really?

Last night I dreamed of squirrels. They came at dawn, and they chewed my branches. I screamed and beat them off with my candles, until I realized that I was a modern tree, and I had none. The squirrels laughed at me, and then they placed a severed head of Richard Nixon on top of me, to replace my star. I felt fear grip my very soul. I tossed glass ornaments at them, but then the devil cat (who’s been eating my icicles) joined them and started ripping more of my branches asunder. Asunder I say! I pleaded with the cat, trying to convince it that it should be eating the squirrels, its age old enemy, but he wouldn’t listen either. I’m not sure why. Then I woke up and there were presents under me.

I don’t know where they came from, but they’re quite pretty. I wonder what’s in them. One of them is a hedgehog of some sort that goes “Grrrr” when you squeeze him, I can see that much. Must be for the dog. Or that girl that comes by sometimes, lives with the pig in the corner. Basically the same person anyway.

I’m so very tired, journal, but I can’t go back to sleep. I’m afraid the squirrels will come again. I get a lot more attention around here now than I did before, so life is better…but I’ve been dreaming of the squirrels. And if not the squirrels, the deer. Or the bats. There are so many things that live in Georgia. Who knew? I was made in Korea!

I guess I’ll try to sneak some of that giant bottle of whiskey they brought in. It can’t be too bad, and that stuff is supposed to knock you right unconscious. I hope it works. I can’t stand to be awake any longer. The dog is…snoring at me.

Yes, it’s creepy. So I’ll have to try the whiskey.

Hopefully it will work…and the squirrels won’t come back.

I love you, journal. You’re my only friend.