Ugh dreams, ugh waking

A sore throat and bad dreams; a kind of waking dream, such as I get now and again, of a very tall inhuman figure, its head similar but not identical to that of a goat. Shaggy, long-legged and priapic, it did not talk but made a strange distinctive noise a bit like creaking, and approached me with a clear hope shall we say, though it didn't attempt anything.

I knew it had nothing really to do with me, nor I with it. And woke this morning to a raging sore throat, and a house full of cat poo and urine. Something must have freaked them out. Something has definitely freaked me out. Maxine's words have stayed with me.

The Internet Argument

You tell me what to do
You tell me what to think
You scream and shout like some mad lout
Whose meds are on the blink
You tell me it's not right,
You tell me it's not fair
You play expert and try to blurt
some fiddlebols from nowhere
You're sure you know it all
And disagreement tries you
You try to boast, your reason's toast
And Freud would recognise you.
You tell me what to say
You tell me your opinion
You tell me do it your way
like I'm your fucking minion
And then you lose the plot
When I shoot down your delusion
Because others know a lot
more than suits your daft conclusion,
and then you whine and cuss
And it's just the way I feared
You're addicted to the fuss,
and you're getting very weird.
I can see that there's no closure,
no getting off this thread
no keeping my composure
unless I go to bed.
I wonder if you're trolling
I wonder if you're hazy
on your need to keep this rolling
Till my friends list deems you crazy
We could keep this up forever
To my boredom and regret,
Or this daft exchange I sever
And get off the internet.
I will wait until tomorrow
start another thread again
With an argument to follow
Among people who are sane...

You tell me what to do
You tell me what to think
You scream and shout like some mad lout
Whose meds are on the blink...