And you know what's the worst thing? An odd feeling I sometimes get when I'm taking care of a chore -- a feeling that I've always being doing the chore. Like I'll be putting pills into those damn plastic pill-popper things and I'll think, "Wasn't I just doing this, like five minutes ago?" When this happened recently, a thought occurred to me.
What if that's the truth? What if I've always been putting pills into pill-holders, and the rest -- my supposed life -- is just a dream? Maybe some aliens want pills put into plastic holders so they got a slave, me, and, to keep me happy they inserted some code into my brain that makes me think I have a life. But really all I do is put these stupid pills into these stupid plastic slots.
Does this strike a chord within you -- a scary, Twilight-Zoney chord?