Thursday, November 17, 2011
It's been a stressful couple of months at work, and yesterday, due to several breakages, I needed to work through the wee hours of the night. I had about four hours to cram a nap into before starting the debug, so I collapsed in the bed and fell asleep almost instantly.
Then came the dream.
I was living in a village inhabited solely by children, in the middle of a post-apocalyptic wasteland criss-crossed by water canals. There were five of us: me, a black girl with very long dreads, and a a nerd boy who looked like a cross between Rick Moranis and the cartoon dude on the 'For Dummies' books. The two others were, like so many people in dreams - faceless, but there.
We played all day amidst the ruble of the once quaint town, carefree as the kids on that old Star Trek episode were where all the grups died. But all was not well in paradise. There were evil dwarves afoot. Not that they were short - or hairy - or looked or acted anything like dwarves. But they were dwarves - that was for sure. And they travelled in submarines that looked suspiciously like the CSS Virginia (or Merrimac, as it is improperly known.) They travelled down the canals that stretched across the open prairie, hunting children.
Luckily, we were psychic, so we knew trouble was coming before the first cannon balls started flying. We also knew that an evil old man had sent the dwarves after us - with the purpose of killing us. He had killed all of the children except us, and wanted us gone too. He lived in a city far away filled with only old people and lots of chain link fences. So we decided to go there.
The city was like a postcard from New York circa 1973 - sort of like Sesame Street - but filled with old people. They were nice to us when we got there. We talked to a very nice old man who said he could help. But suddenly my psychic powers revealed that he was the evil old man - the kingpin - the murder of all the world's children, so we hot-footed it out of there.
That's when the F-14 Tomcats began strafing the street.
We ran down the stairs into the subway station. The trains weren't running, however. Instead, the subway was cram-packed with junk - toys, swing sets, stuffed animals, and tons of yellow school buses. It was so packed we could hardly move - and overwhelmingly claustrophobic. We hunkered down between two overturned buses, trying to avoid the fighter jets. I'm not exactly sure how, but the F-14s made it into the station. Their machine guns blared. They shot the faceless kids. They killed the nerd. They riddled the black girl with bullets. Then they turned the guns on me. I could feel the pain as each of the bullets hit - and then I died.
Needless to say, I was very surprised when I woke up. The places where I was shot were on fire - hurting something fierce. But after the confusion wore off, I chuckled a bit. Then I saw the clock and that I had only slept three hours - and the amount of adrenalin I was pumped full of wasn't going to let me get back to sleep.
Many hours later, and most of my work done - I'm a bit punch drunk - and still a bit perplexed and fascinated by that dream. I'm sure my therapist (if I had one) would have a field day with it. But it does inspire me. I'd like to game in a world like that - as horrific as it sounds.
So go dream something weird. Go on now - don't be shy. Really freaky. It will probably inspire you. Oh, and feel free to report back here on your weird-ass dreams.
[Since I died in my dream does that mean I'm immortal now?]