Dream: Demon Potatohead NIGHTMARE

The first nightmare I’ve had in a long time:
3:00 AM – Demon Potatohead

I remember earlier, something about a pagan/SCA gathering. I go into a Pagan Politicos room; it’s like a pagan gathering at a caucus. They are working on talking points for the campaign. Gay’s here. Someone is talking about the SCA, and how he ought to be able to enter the car that he adapted into arts and sciences competition. I disagree with him, and tell him about all the work I did on tiny woven bands, and that he should be working on something more historical than an adapted automobile.

Then I’m at a stone-carving site. There are a whole bunch of people here, and I think they’re carving a dragon. It’s all very low-tech, almost reminds me of Easter Island. They work the head free of the rock substrate, but they’ve broken its nose off. They can’t fix it, like with clay, because the stone won’t go back together. They are also cutting a bunch of little round pieces; I think one is a peg-leg for a little boy.

Then the transition to nightmare begins. I don’t know how I ended up at Grandmother’s old house in the woods. There is an evil little potato-head demon; it doesn’t look like the plastic toy, though, it appears to be a real potato, but with eyes and a growling mouth. It wants to get me. I try to kill it several different ways, from crushing it into the ground with my foot (it burrows down and then reappears later) to stabbing it, burning it, and smashing it. I have a bag of potato chips at one point, and throw handfuls of them at the demon potatohead, asking if he ate them would it be like cannibalism. At one point, I have smashed it flat, so that it looks like a flattened piece of meat, although it’s pale and not red, and I’ve cut it with a knife, and marked pentacles and crosses on it with the knife. Then I stuffed it into a fire – reminds me of a charcoal grill, with the briquets, and then letters appeared on the surface of his flattened self, saying, “TRY A DIFFERENT RHYTHM, PAGAN BOY.”

Then, I start chasing him from room to room, and it seems like I’m going in a circle. Some friends of mine show up to help me. One is an Oriental guy, and he has a big chef knife or a cleaver. At one point, he stops running in the circles, and I pass him – when I come around again, I see that he’s stopped running and is looking right at me – he’s going to attack me too! I realize that I’m dreaming, but only manage to wake myself.