I had nightmare last Wednesday

In this nightmare, I was at the AT&T register finalizing a purchase on an the item I've hated on for years.

In this nightmare, I sat at the Thanksgiving table staring blankly, offline to the conversations of my loved ones and online to a little screen of death.

I ignored my nephews pleas to leave his playpen because I wanted to catch it on video. Every moment of cuteness was a moment I needed a black box in hand.

I showed off to friends nifty lil' gizmos and gadgets (apps, I recall). In virtually every conversation, a point fired an automatic hand reach to confirm a reference or settle an argument.

I could not escape the little screen of death. Or so I thought. In one instance, success! I somehow freed my hands and mind. But, alas, to no avail. My freed eyes looked around only to see before me a roomful of people trapped in the same trap I could not escape.

So I looked back down at the little screen of death and, in this nightmare, submitted to it's demands. Something in me believed my new toy somehow enhanced a life that had no need for enhancement.

I awoke Thursday morning with a cold sweat, wishing so badly the nightmare was not true.