Death by Corduroy

Last night I dreamt that there was serial killer lose on the streets of Gotham. Kind of Son of Sam-esque only this time his target was not cute brunettes, it was wearers of navy corduroy (!). And in the dream I couldn't believe my luck since I had just purchased a pair of corduroys that I adored and was eagerly anticipating a day that would be cool enough to wear them. News footage showed a man who had witnessed the hostage of an unsuspecting victim donning THE SAME pants as the ones I had bought. He (yes it was a man who had bought my pants) was marched through central park under the cloak of night with a loaded gun to his head from this very dangerous and psychopathic killer.
The next day I woke up and put the pants on even though I knew I was tempting fate. It became evening and I remember seeing the sunset over Tompkins park and realizing- if I don't run FAST I'll be dead tomorrow. So I started running and I was actually flying. My toes would touch down and I would jump up over the trees and fly kind of. But the corduroy was hot so I want sweaty and sticky and it was slowing me down. When I finaly arrived at the building he had been waiting. He knew I would be there. In the pants. He had checked all the records at Barneys to see who had recently purchased the jbrand navy cords. Me. I always was suspicious when Barneys asked me for my address at check out.