Wore FIFTEEN socks of varying colors and sizes today. Also a slice of bacon CLEVERLY CONCEALED within my hair.
That's not really true, about ths socks and bacon. But I dreamed it. I slept fitfully last night, wine and sleeping pills forcing my fleshy hu-man body into Sleep Mode. Parts of my brain resisted. They invented strange and complex images and sounds, composed of earlier events and imaginings. I think you call them "dreams".
I was dressed in plain clothes - black pants, a deep summer-sky-blue shirt and white vest. My Mother and Father were dressed similarly but in a different, more regal shade of blue. An evil man, a baron of some kind, had requested an audience with my Uncle. My Uncle was a man of power and prestige, but an old man. We sat in a great factory, my Uncle sitting and looking wistfully over the machines and storage tanks. My parents were elsewhere in the factory.
"Uncle," I said, "why are you meeting with him? You know he intends to kill you." I sat next to him on a huge cylindrical tank filled with fuel of some kind.
"I know. But it is.." He smiled and looked at some faroff place. "It is the best way."
I knew at that moment that my Uncle had resigned himself to death. It was the only way we could get rid of the Baron. And either I or my Father would remain to take the throne after my Uncle was gone.
We flew, bodily, to a junkyard that was a few miles away. (I could fly by force of will. This was nothing unusual for me.) There were huge wheeled vehicles, like gigantic 50s-style American cars with rockets on the back, suspended in the air by chains and magnets. There were barrels of oil and gasoline here and there on the dirt ground and piles of twisted metal and crushed vehicles towering around us. From around a large corrugated metal warehouse came a fat man in clothes like mine, only green, followed by a few dozen slim men with long, thin staves and pikes and green hair that matched the Baron's shirt. They flew towards us, hovering about a foot from the ground, leaning forward, weapons at the ready.
My Father and Uncle's eyes became hard. They lunged forward in unison at some unseen signal, and a battle began.
At that moment my Mother somehow triggered an explosion. A barrel full of gasoline 50 feet away engulfed a few of the green-haired men in flames. My Father and Uncle broke formation and began firing balls of translucent red energy from their hands, or maybe from some unseen weapons in their sleeves. These quickly felled two of the men defending the Baron. I stood and stared, dumbfounded. I floated absentmindedly a few feet higher in the air.
Birds, hundreds of stupid little chirpy birds sat in the pine tree outside my window. Chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp, they said. I tilted my head back and looked at them out the window. They continued to tweet at me, despite being upside-down. I made a noise like a angry gorilla, or so I imagined. It probably sounded more like an angry, upside-down computer nerd. The upside-down birds were not at all frightened and they chirped exactly as before to indicate this fact. I checked the clock: 6:45am, too early for consciousness and far too early for upside-down chirpychirp birds. I pulled the covers over my head and concentrated on making them explode with my mental powers. Instead I fell back asleep.