I dreamed I was part of what turned out to be a radical, Black Bloc-esque troop of Girl Scouts. We were all on a bus (a nice tour bus, not a school bus, which was weird because Girl Scouting as I know it is a low-budget operation, as is getting into black garb to go make ruckus, which is what we did as the bus rumbled on to wherever we were going). I had just made up my mind not to wear a mask when the bus stopped.

I was the last to get off the bus, and the group was already out of sight when I emerged, but some friendly construction workers on top of a nearby building pointed me which way they'd gone. It was then that I realized we were Girl Scouts, protesting the fact that the uniforms on sale at this location were a) made with sweatshop labor, and b) too darn expensive (hence our black army-surplus gear? I dunno).

In any case, we set about filing into a corporate boardroom in the lobby of the store where the unacceptable uniforms were being sold, so the Girl Scout Council types couldn't have their meeting (they promptly set up shop at another table near ours). Our troop leader looked disappointed that we weren't causing more disruption of the corporate types' activities, and we were embarrassed to be disappointing her, so we set about blocking access to the store. Mostly our presence there was enough to intimidate the mothers seeking to buy uniforms for their daughters, and we made posters and pressed pamphlets about the evils of sweatshops, child labor and exploitation on the ones brave enough to approach the store. But mostly we had a lot of free time, so we sat around reading.

I was rereading The Chronicles of Narnia but one was missing: one in the middle, about a green witch (somehow, even in the dream, I was sure no such book even existed). The boxed set available to me didn't have it, and for some reason contained a few R. L. Stine-type cheap, trashy horror books of the type that can give me the willies right before bedtime instead. I rejected these and went back to my reading.

I found myself engrossed in a story about a man who had made himself a woman, and would torment her by doing things like cutting off her nose and sewing it back on. He was quite paranoid that her agonized screams and complaints would draw someone's attention, and justifiably so: the story was being told from the point of view of a small creature, a pixie or maybe a magical talking mouse who had invented a hot air balloon to travel in and had seen their interaction. Nonetheless, he continued to abuse her and to tell her to keep quiet, because he felt like someone was watching him. It was weird, but there's a story in it, one I might have to write if it hasn't been done already.

I woke up not sure if I had really dreamed up that story, and thinking about letting it evaporate like dreams do. But it stuck with me, and now I've written it down here for future reference, and we'll see if anything comes of it.