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Murray Hill, originally uploaded by emilyrems.

Whew! Just woke up from a fucked up nightmare and the sweat is still drying all over my arms and legs and face. A few minutes ago, I was dreaming that I had been sent on a press junket to a remote tropical island with a bunch of unbearably too-cool-for-school journalists to take in the local color. It was our first night there, and I was standing around by myself uncomfortably by a big BBQ pit in a lush clearing where we were scheduled to dine when I saw drag king superstar Murray Hill (above) walking towards us. I was so relieved to see Murray because I adore him and I was hating everyone else on the trip so far, so I rushed over to him. He was looking hilarious and dapper in an elaborate tan safari get up, and I had just had a chance to say hello, when a tall guy came over to us and told Murray he had something to show him, so Murray and the guy left together. After that I sat around and waited for a long time not talking to anyone. Eventually smoke started rising out of the BBQ pit and drums started playing from somewhere and clay bowls started being passed around filled with rice topped with some kind of roasted meat. I tried a little of it and didn’t like it, and then waited until I saw the tall guy again. When I spotted him, I walked over to where he was happily eating and asked him where Murray was. He gave me a funny look, took a bite, exchanged glances with some hipsters nearby and said something like “Well, I believe he’s very close by…” and then took another bite and started laughing. That’s when I knew that I was surrounded by cannibals, that I had actually just taken a bite of Murray, and that since I clearly didn’t fit in with this crowd, I would probably be next. I ran to a nearby cabin to get my stuff, stole a car, and somehow drove from the cabins all the way to my parents’ house in Virginia to hide from the cannibals. As I was unloading my stuff from the car, I realized I had with me a big paper shopping bag that I didn’t have before. I opened it up, and inside was Murray’s head, severed at the neck with a look of shock on his face. I was surprised and scared and started screaming. My mom was very calm and told me to be quiet. She asked me if I had killed Murray and I said no - that I was being framed, and if the cannibals caught up with me they would probably eat me too. I told her I thought that I should call the police, or at least call some of Murray’s friends in NY and tell them what had happened anonymously but my mom said I was being stupid. She said to hide out and not call attention to myself. I went upstairs to lie down and my bedroom was full of cats. A bunch of black ones and one white one. I cried for a while and then came downstairs determined to get help from the authorities when I ran into my mom, standing in our front doorway, dressed as Murray Hill. She looked ridiculous so I laughed, but then asked what she was doing. She said she was going to pretend she was Murray so people wouldn’t know he was missing. I told her I had to get out of there and went to find the car I had been driving, but the vehicle was in the garage being taken apart by mechanics who were buying the parts. I looked in the back seat and saw all kinds of burlesque promo materials and realized that I had stolen Murrays car, the car was now being sold for parts, and I still had his head in a shopping bag. All signs of guilt pointed to me. At this point I woke up briefly, totally upset and disoriented, then immediately fell asleep again and began dreaming I was riding the subway in NYC. Everything was fine until I stepped away from my purse and shopping bag to see what stop we were at, stepped outside onto the platform, and then heard the doors slam behind me. I saw my purse and shopping bag start to disappear into the subway tunnel, and I saw through the window a woman who had been sitting next to me start to look through my stuff. I realized that the shopping bag I had left on the train might have Murray Hill’s head in it - so I started to freak out and run after the train. As the cars slowly disappeared into the tunnel, I saw the conductor’s car go by with the number 735 on it, and I saw I had been riding the C train. Just before the last car disappeared into the tunnel, someone pulled the emergency break and the whole train lurched to a halt and the lights went out. I assumed it was because someone had found the head. I started shaking all over. I didn’t know wheather I should stay or run, considering they had the head, my purse with my wallet and all my ID, and eye witnesses who had seen me carrying it. That’s when I woke up in a sweat, whispering the words “735C” over and over to myself.

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