So, I've never done a daylog or anything. Not that I don't think my life is interesting - far from it. No, I just don't see why anyone else would find it interesting. Besides, I'm a lazy sod.

But damn. This you gotta hear about.

So my three other housemates and I are living in some apartment thing. Lots of bare redstone walls and hanging tapestries, hewn wooden furniture - all austerity and Hall of the Mountain King kinda stuff. Nothing at all like our suburban two story fibre-board student digs.

Landlord shows up. He's the same landlord as we have now, but instead of being a slightly retarded overweight electrician, he is thin, quiet, creepy, pale, and wearing a cape. He tells us in a very sibilant voice that we have to be out of the apartment within half an hour, because, "the time has come, and we need the building." He threatens us with terribly unpleasant, but sufficiently vague, repercussions should we fail to comply.

But we know he needs to give us two weeks notice, so like hell we're gonna move out. Next thing we know, the whole building starts shaking, and we look out the window to see that the whole building is moving slowly along the road. We realise they are re-arranging the city into some dark and evil glyph.

So we all run downstairs into the street. I see the landlord fleeing around a corner and chase him. I follow him a few blocks away to a deli that seems to be at the heart of this evil symbol. Through the window, I watch as he meets John Travolta, who is wearing a cape, has fangs, and otherwise looks very much like his character in Battlefield Earth. Travolta is ordering something very mysterious. They start discussing the progress of their dark and evil plan.

I realise what's going on - the Vampire Scientologists are taking over the city. But I have an advantage.

I know their secret.

I wait just around the corner of the deli door. As Travolta leaves, I lunge for him. But his vampire reflexes are too quick for me. He starts running away, and ducks into a little alley. I chase him to the mouth of the alley, and stop. "I know who you are!" I shout. "And I know what you're doing!"

With a soul-chilling scream, the darkness in front of me re-arranges itself into Travolta's spectral figure. "I know who you are - John Travolta!" I smugly say. "I could destroy you. You'll never work again, except with your scientologist freaks."

"What do you want," he asks me.

"All I want is for you to sign over the deed to our building to us. And find some other building for your evil map."

He hisses at me, as I reveal that I know the full extent of his plan. He tries to hurt me, but, protected by my certainty, I realise how he is trying to hurt me, and somehow turn it back against him. He relents.

He gave us the building. And I woke up.

My dreams are usually about sex, dammit.