First off, I should note that I was sick when I went to sleep last night. My first dream occured while I was asleep on a red couch in the living room. I went to sleep around 9:30 PM and woke up about 4:25 AM. My first dream was rather spooky, with a dark, glassy feeling to it. I was in school, wandering around, attempting to find my class. This dream school is very unlike my school, in the fact that this school is dark and glassy, and it bears a strong resemblence to a mall. There are multiple escalators, sliding glass doors, and low light, grey spray painted bulbs. There are also metal detectors, which as I will explain later, are not welecome in my dream.
Now, I'm wandering around this facility, when I suddenly notice a hard lump in my jacket pocket. I pull it out and am shocked to discover it is a very shiny, very deadly-looking, palm-sized .45 pistol.
Needless to say, this scares me quite a bit. Luckily for my dream self, there is an electronic saftey trigger gaurd on it, but a school is not a good place to casually carry a gun in! I attempt to hide the gun in the palm of my hand, with great unsucessfulness, however, my dream extras are oblivious to my crime. I decide that the best possible safe place for my gun is my locker. Unfortunately, I cannot find my locker. I search the whole building, but don't find anything. Suddenly, I see somewhere I haven't gone: a very long escalator. I get on, and people quickly fill the steps behind me, ensuring that I cannot go backwards.
AHHHHH! The escalators all end up at METAL DETECTORS!
"Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit..." Suddenly, I realise that I might have a chance: The portals have no individual gaurds. Instead, they all link to a master terminal, where five guards check for illegal items.
Thinking quickly, and taking advantage of my thinness, I walk to the left of the portal, hoping nobody will notice. Nothing goes off. I'M FREE! I walk quickly away, into a side hallway.
"HEY, YOU! STOP!"
AHHHHH oh shit oh shit I'm caught! I'm forced to blink, as the gaurd coming at me is none other than my old camp counselor, Ricky. Ricky is a six foot three inch guy, who wieghs about 190, giving an impression of leanness. His long stride catches up to mine quickly, and he cuts to the chase: "Do you have a gun, Ben?" I nod, on the verge of tears. "Hand it over." I comply, trying to force out that I really don't know why I have it or how I got it, that I just wanted to prove SharQ's point on explosion to the class. He calls for the school psychologist, who as it turns out, bears a striking resemblence to "Big Boy" on the FOX show, Boston Public. "Big Boy" takes one look at me, suddenly inspecting the gun (Ricky did not give it to him, he simply acquired it), and then silently wrote me a note, saying "Run along. Have a nice day." and hands me the note, and the gun. He smiles a small, knowing smile, and just walks away. I'm so shocked by this that I wake up.
I have woken up, gotten up off the couch, and wisely gone to bed
. Ahh, sweet, sweet, soft, comfortable bed. Mmmmmmm...Soft pillows...*snore*...As opposed to Dream 1, my second dream has a very bright, almost carnival
-like atmosphere to it. I play the role of two people: a detached narrator and a slick
carnival head honcho
with the personality of a second hand car salesman
. I am promoting an Annie Oakley
-like woman who is a crack knife thrower, and whom I have decided to call knifegirl
, just for the hell of it. Her knive
s are somewhat unique
, in the sense that they are two 1.5 inch-long steel
blades attached to the end of a five-inch piece of wood, about .75 inches across at the thickest point, .5 inchest across at the thinnest. The blades are about .2 inches thick, and .65 inches across. She can throw
these blades with frightening accuracy
, to the point of being able to slice
in half, while the penny was being thrown in the air.
She can make the blade act like a boomerang, spinning around an igloo. At one point, she even manages to pick apples
off of a tree
using her thrown blades.
I, meanwhile, am making a total ass out of myself. I'm trying to throw the blades, and failing miserably. Most of the time, I don't even get within a few feet of my mark. It creates a very comical contrast, her marksmanship and my bumbling idiocy. Finally, knifegirl and the crowd get tired of me, and knifegirl demonstrates her skill in another weapon: the BB gun. She proceeds to shoot me a couple dozen times, soaking my white shirt with blood. I find that the BBs don't really hurt, they just sting. I flail around like a blind goat, and finally I wake up, relieved of my own foolishness.