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Been a while, but this one was amusing so in the archive it goes.
It's clear noon and I'm riding the bus to the mall. In the windows, two know characters appear, it's the two most annoying girls from middle school. One of them being quite alright now having met her again - although seeing her in my dream now makes me question whether or not that actually happened - but the other one have had 3 kids and lives with her mum, and well, you know how I value this glorious demonstration of passive dysgenics. They have one thing in common, however, they've got horrible gothic dye jobs, and you can actually see they're emerging as if it was a hip hair dye commercial all reproduced down to the smooth voiceover presuming you didn't like your previous ultraviolet dye.
I elude the sight of one of them but the baby plopper skates up to the window asking for money. Apparently, I owed her some - and my integrity stays intact even in my dreams. We eventually meet at the parking lot, and it's apparent from my hesitation to give her the demanded ten pounds that she just needs a job and money, and we're in the clear. Swearing this situation have happened before on scrubs, I scan my database of Coxian insults that will dismiss her yet leaving me looking cool. Unfortunately, before a suitable match is found she says she needs the money for lube as her housemates have been using hers, and well, we've all been there..
Still hesitant to relinquish my stash, I wave it in front of her face; "if you're a good girl", I say, yanking it away from her. Great, now I have to spend time with her, that would've been reason enough to pay. My deus ex machina arrives; it's a huge seagull fresh from a wing operation. Encased from the neck down (like a dress) in a transparent plastic cube, it was the saddest thing ever. It looked at my inquiringly as if to ask; friend help gully fly?
Then the bitch threw a rock at it, that's my cue. I'm walking off with my money into a mall of Selfridges like proportions, and through a series of divisive manoeuvres involving continuous use of the many escalators, I end the mall scene by grinding down the stairs in a maybeline nail saloon. I caused a stir, but then again, such monstrosities shouldn't even exist.
After exiting through the back I find myself back in the parking lot where a boss fight is waiting for me. It's seems easy, but one of the things that needs to be done is to disable his fancy camera so he wouldn't take photos of me. I break of the lens, but nothing happens. Clearly, that was not what you were meant to do. I find the hack feature on it, and via the deliberate UI, chose system -> delete all mc. Yes, mc from one of the memory recall buttons on a calculator; we're talking high tech shit here. That did it, next cut scene starting - it's obviously a cut scene because it's impossible to dodge - he emerges from behind the camera and shoots me with his granite flak cannon, ouch. Cunning prisoner escape mission to come? Possibly, his helper mixes poison in my cereal through his telekinetic glove, and whilst I try not to eat it, my hands seem to move on their own. My suit measures my relative poison level 10, 8, 7, 5, 3, 2, 3, 2. Shit, this is bad, 80% poisoned. The numbers rise slowly to ten again, but left my powers drained. I barely escape their wrath by not snoozing.
phew
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Yes, another one. It's been a while since I've remembered my dreams so vividly - it's probably my irregular sleeping patterns - whether it's a curse or blessing is up to you to decide.
After arriving at some fancy new airport after a long flight, I drop in the most luxurious snack bar within range. They serve all kinds of nice looking food, including alcoholised drinks served on the inside of a pineapple. While picking up one of these items, my eyes catch a glimpse of an aquarium right next to me. The water is boiling, but the fish doesn't really seem to care about their imminent demise. Exotic as they are, they use their colors as protection form the heat and shed them, like we sweat to compensate for high body temperatures, and what is seen is a the marvellous fluid dynamical solution of what is really their body.
This is obviously quite funny, and being unable to conceal my laughter, some woman slaps me for my unpleasant demeanor. Having formed an acquaintance with this woman's glove, I focus on this black leather, and swish, suddenly I'm out of the picture, and the glove is now on the hand of a bike cop. Not just any bike cop either, this guy, acting like he's doing a how to video, is actually a famous Norwegian violinist, and while he's quite old, he knows how to roll. Unfortunately, rolling seems to be the only thing he can do with his bike nowadays; pacific blue fans cringe by watching his performance.
Since you can't have a cop in a dream without an accident, the scene is set outside the warwick sports centre, where the swimming pool has been filled with these exotic fish mentioned earlier. Lightning strikes, knocking a pylon over and encompassing the building in a haze of blue fiery sparks. The whole building starts to shake, an aura of torment fill the skies. It's so bad that at any point you'd expect giant fish man to somehow erupt and start collecting torsos.
This, apparently, highlights the need for security and control at the airport, and deliriously I awake to a song about Mr. Security.
anticlimactic, but the song was really good
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A nice girl and I are on vacation at some funky ruins and we want our photograph taken. Since we have no camera we let a total stranger take the picture and gather no contact information on the fella. He obligingly hands me the camera upon inquiry so I could look at the picture, but the camera is left in album mode and I have to scroll through all the shit he's got in there. Basically, he'd documented the entire trip throughout the ruins – you could tell because slideshow looked like a movie - but when he reached the part of the ruins where we were seated, his movie ended abruptly and switched to six thousand photographs of the guy posing in front of his oranges. Yes.
Naturally, this took a while for me realize - roughly the time it takes to fast forward through six thousand identical photos - as you'd expect him to walk into an orange store, just snap a couple and continue his ruin run, but no. During this time, our ruins morph into a bar, this in turn morphs into a DVD store. There I meet my personal tutor, and he brought me three DVDs, all alternate versions of famous - non-existent - films. I hand them to my friend while I chase him into the office to say hi, but he's long gone. However, this chase must've taken a long time since when I return, my friend had started to separate the discs from the covers and put them into their dedicated shelf in the store. Obviously, this is quite infuriating, as if I didn't own them I wouldn't have the disc inside the cover already. I mean, taking a disc out of a cover is a magical one-way operation that can only be undone by a trained professional.
This is when I realize it's twelve o'clock and my surroundings have again taken the form of a bar, unfortunately, twelve is when I snooze so the rest just me hugging a pillow, or equivalently, killing pink, fluffy teddy bears.
purposely omitting hot fairy dream
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Whole spectacle takes place at the motorway. I am to catch up to an SUV, only problem is that I have no ride. Doing what every smart guy would do, I exploit a bug in the motorway. Placing my body in front of an upcoming trailer quickly grants me the required velocity, and soon I'm ready to skid along the motorway after it. Alas, the SUV travels faster than the trailer and all hope of catching up is fading. To overcome this obstacle, not only does my dream spawn a rapidly descending tunnel - which everyone knows have lower values of friction - it also replaces my exploiting shoes with some proper roller blades.
After a series of ego boosting turns at breakneck speed, we are destined to meet. I take the guy to my old
friend's village - over the years he's apparently become exceedingly rich. Anyway, it's apparent that our mystery guy is a genius. He tells me about the two ways of ocular regulation, apparently my eyes use an internal lookup table to know how to focus. He could tell me this because he'd had SSI before too - never quite got what that stood for, but he sure knew his stuff - and if you see weird shapes in the sky, you've got it. The scientific explanation for this is that the lower the wavelength the higher the intensity of the perceived colors. So when people with SSI look into the bright sky, we have no entry in our lookup table for such small wavelengths, and our minds make up beautiful shapes of intense colors. Seems like a great condition, huh? Turns out, without this condition, people never really develop this table, and can see things as they are, not as they ought to be. Hooray, I'm not cynical in my dreams.
not minesweeper patterns
