My obsession with Law & Order: Criminal Intent is rapidly becoming a full-on addiction. It's potentially time for an intervention and here's why: in my dreams each night, I'm a detective.
Detective Burry, that is, complete with uncomfortable looking trousers, straightened hair, and a seemingly endless supply of evidence bags and plastic gloves.
Have you met me? I'm a bit, well, squeamish. It's not that I faint when I get shots (I do), but that I feel faint when other people get shots. I'm very aware I wasn't cut out to be a detective. Unfortunately, dream Madeleine--or should I say, Detective Burry--does not seem to be aware.
In my dreams, I wander around grisly crime scenes, feeling faint and nauseous. I'm very bumbling, and solve none of the cases. Mornings, I'm exhausted and dissatisfied: it's hard work not solving the problems of New York city.
But one time, wandering through dream NY, in my ugly dream suit, handcuffs dangling from my pockets, I solve a case. I found the murderer, made him confess, and heard the satisfying bum-bum of success. So go ahead -- rip from the headlines! I'm ready for it.