...in Dreams

Today I finished Elizabeth Konx's novel 'Dreamhunter', the first in a seris of two. Apart from the dissapontment I always feel when I finish a book and either have to wait for the next instalment or have no other books to read directly aterwards (both cases apply here...boo-hoo to me), I really enjoyed this book. But dreams and me have never really worked together. They used to scare me quie a bit when I was but a young chappie, and although nowadays I quite enjoy my dreams, they still remain damn strange.
Take last mights dream for example.

Myself and a buddy had decided to get tatoos. The tatoo palor we had chosen was on the 'x'th floor of some building. I just know it wasn't the ground floor. The actual tatoo parlor was just a small room that kind of resembled my old schools photography room. The tatoo artists, a guy and a girl, were likewise shadowy.
My friend had decided to get his balls tatooed. This struck me as odd, and it was even stranger when the female tatooist seemed unable to tell the difference the parts of private and my freinds upper lip. He ended up getting a maustauce in tatoo ink.
This didn't discourage me, for some reason, and told the tatooist that i wanted a tatoo on my arm. he asked me if I wanted to be anethisized. I, not being a fan of the pain, replied yes.
So he pushed needles in to my face, arm and leg. It wernt to pleasant.
Since the whole right side of me was now paralized, the guy thought it would be a good idea to cover me inn dishwashing liquid and spin me around on my chair. I tried to get up but since I was now lubricated and numb i found it pretty difficult. Luckily, the guy fell over aand myself and my freind were able to make a stumbling escape.
In the corridor there were all sorts of oddities. My friends boots had blood on them.

At this point I awoke. The sub-consious is a very strange place. It's ok for a vist, but I wouln't want to live there.