I had a strange dream last night:

Stretched across a worn, dusty, massive plain, 2 armies, both of which number in the millions, stand opposite of each other.  A soot-colored, gargantuan mountain breathing smoke sits at the heels of the evil army.  The sky has absorbed the mood, showing off a thick mass of  rolling, low-hanging clouds, dark grey and sickly green in color.  On the horizon to the west, a faint glow breaks the doom of the ominous clouds, a pale light lingers, hugging the ground for survival.  The smell of sweat, horses, and iron fills the air around me, whereas drifting from the other side comes the smell of rot and mucus.

I unsheathe my sword slowly and can hear my heart pounding in my ears, the sound of my breath magnified by the helmet covering my head.  My horse utters a brief “neigh” and I look to the west, taking notice of the pale light reflecting off of the millions of helmets stretching out as far as the eye can see.  I hear the men clearing their throats, coughing, and shifting their feet.  All jaws are clenched as the thousand yard stare ensues, both sides contributing to the tension that you couldn’t cut with a knife if you so wished it.  Everything cuts to black.

A thousand “clangs” mix with a great roar and, as if opening my eyes, I can see again.  I am on my horse, sweeping across the battle field & shouting orders, cutting down my enemies all the while.  A white flag splattered in blood surges up from the thick of soldiers under attack.  I give my steed a light kick and run full speed into the group, plowing my way to the middle, and grab the flag.  A scream erupts behind me and a grotesque captain from the opposite side charges me.  I wait.  Everything moves in real time around me but the enemy captain and I are stuck in slow motion.  The ground rumbles beneath his clumsy, large feet.  My horse bull snorts and steps forward, eager to take him on, it seems.  I hold the flag over my shoulder and my focus narrows.  Beads of sweat fill my peripheral vision and slide off to the sides of my helmet.  A tingling feeling fills my groin.  The adrenaline.  Fear mixed with excitement.  A feeling of dominance surges through me, insistent that I overpower this thing that is easily twice my size.  A mere 20 feet from me, enraged, out of control, swinging his oversized axe behind his waist, nobody stops him.  15 feet.  With all of my strength, I launch the pole-end of the blood-splattered flag at him and, within the blink of an eye he stops dead in his tracks.  I hear him coughing, gasping for air over the clamor of war.  Blood bubbles up his throat and leaks from his mouth and he stares at me blankly.  My horse half-turns back and forth, raising its head up and down and the captain collapses to the ground with an earth-quaking thud.

A raucous chant splits through the plain, grabbing my attention.  Tens of thousands of unarmed, but well armored soldiers called “bullies” march toward us.  Swords are useless, as are spears.  I take off to the east side of the battle, calling out for the archers in the middle and rear of the formations to take aim and fire on my command.  Word spreads like wildfire through the ranks as the bullies march closer and in unison, the sound of stress from the twine and the wood sound off .  Upon screaming out “UNLEASH!!”, the whittling and spitting noise of tens of thousands of arrows tearing through the air seems to dwarf all other noises.  A second volley of arrows only slow the bullies down.  I quickly realize the futility of another attack and speed further east, booming out for the immediate formation of the cavalry.

Thunder shakes the earth as they line up, coming out from a passageway that leads deep into the eastern mountains.  I cannot count them due to the greatness of their numbers and they are clad in deep, richly colored gold robes with lightweight silver armor plating.  Their helmets are rounded with small, silver wings covering the ears and short plumes of white and black on the top.  The eye pieces are slanted to give an angry and intimidating appearance.  These men are not to be challenged.  I point forward and “CHARGE!” reverberates from the mountain behind us and speeds ahead.  Right as the bullies approach the front lines of my comrades, we hit the first “thick” of them, plowing through them to the end  of their numbers on the western side with relentless determination, confusing, separating, and trampling them.  It serves as enough of a punch that the swordsmen/spearmen charge in to cut them down as they scramble to realign/reform themselves.

With the bullies broken, I ride to the eastern mountain passage to meet with a few hundred elite soldiers.  They arm themselves as they see fit, each specializing in their own art of killing that compliments the others.  I adjust my breastplate as I await their readyness and glance back at the carnage.  Two thirds of my brothers in arms, are being slowly overwhelmed.  None of the special forces before me seem concerned, so confident they are that their actions on the field will turn the tide back in our favor.  A bush rustles behind me and as the figure emerges, I immediately recognize him.  It is Gandhi.  He hobbles to my horse and asks me how I think he would handle this situation.  I pause to consider the meaning of his question and then ask him to back up.  He smiles and does so.  Refusing to bow to or use nonviolent means against the evil we are fighting, I make a speech to the men present (the full contents of which I cannot recall so will not post) and every time I end a sentence with inspiration, the last word appears in the air in front of me in large, bold, white letters, followed by an exclamation point.  The men chant each of those words back to me in unison.  At the end of my speech, I give each of the men a look of confidence; at the last one, several elementary schoolmates of mine appear, smirking & shaking their heads, thinking I am being overly dramatic in my speech.  I ignore them, seeing the successful effect my speech has on the men and understanding that my classmates knew me as a child but not as the leader I was becoming.

The specialists pull out their battle horns and the largest one is handed to me.  We line up at the exit of the passageway and take a few seconds to observe the sight in front of us.  It is so dramatic.  Poetic.  Historic.  Beautiful & tragic.  The forces at the foot of that terrible black mountain have no idea that we are about to unleash absolute hell on them and chase them until every single one of them is lying motionless in their own blood.  I look back at the men one more time, then to the west, whose dying light is rapidly becoming brighter.  My horse rears on it’s hind legs and I blow into my horn, sending a crack up the side of the black mountain to the north; it is echoed by the hundreds of horns behind me.  We roar ahead, chanting together as loud as our voices permit, causing another crack to split the ground a few hundred feet ahead of us, out of which, a spring of water bubbles up.  The blinding light fully breaks in the west, causing a great flash.  I wake up.

I had a strange dream last night:

I roll over and grope my cordless box thing I use to make phone calls. 10:46 am. Shit. I am late for work. I stare at the phone a bit longer and the following appears on the screen: “10:46 am. Shit. I am late for work.” Apparently I have a super power of some kind involving a deep telepathic bond with cell phones. After backflipping out of bed into a set of 10 jumping jacks while giving myself my usual “Your job NEEDS you!” pep talk, a pep talk that is completely untrue, I run down the stairs and out the door to my…….bicycle? Where the hell is my car? It’s my dream and I demand an Infiniti G35!

The sun is at high morning posture, a yoga position that it is in the process of patenting. I am at 54 Dover Road, my childhood house. The day is crisp & mild with a slight breeze to break up the monotony of perfect. The sound of a jackhammer, a bobcat, and other construction monsters cut through the serene aura of birds chirping. I roll my eyes at the tactlessness of the construction cult for working so early in the morning (to those of us that don’t wake until noon) and notice that my bike has gone missing. I approach the construction worker and over the sound of the jackhammer jacking, yelling like an obnoxious American tourist at a foreigner in their home country, demand to speak with their supervisor. The yellow hat-wearing worker (who has a handsome late 80’s mustache) points into the garage. As I near the supervisor, I see my bike stuck between two planks of boundary wood in a garden. I rip my bike out with some effort and hop on.

Not long into my ride, I notice that the handbrakes are missing. Not only the handbrakes, but the wire that connects them to the brakes, the chain and….the tires. How I managed to ride a bike with no tires is something that would take another whole sentence to explain. I refuse to do that. I clamorously drag my bicycle to the house having the work done on its front yard and right before yelling at the men working, I look up in the sky and see 2 dots on the edge of a cloud. I peer closer at it and everything goes dark for a split second, making me feel like I have been knocked off my feet.

When I open my eyes, I am up in the sky with my girlfriend, whose code name will be “bandia”, which is Gaelic for “goddess”. She and I are debating who would win in a fight: The god of fire, or the god of water. She sides with the Matchbox 20 wannabe and I vouch for the wrath of a thousand squirt guns. They both look like Zeus to me. We look down onto the land beneath us and take in a beautiful sight: 2 temples rise from the beautiful, square pools that remind me of the rectangular one at the Taj Mahal. The one belonging to the flamer is surrounded in pyroclast and steam, its foundation stained in soot. The other temple is surrounded in a rushing torrent of water and an aura of mist. The battle ensues.

By the end of it, the god of water lay dead on the ground, his body still sizzling, charred, and broken, his trident still in his hand. Codename “bandia” starts giving me crap for being wrong and so I hold up my hand and tell her I will be right back. I focus on the god of fire and scream through the sky, landing on my feet next to the god of water with a loud boom. I take the trident from his hand, offended by the smell of burning flesh and fresh blood and aim it at the god of fire, who is too busy standing proudly with his chest out on his temple steps to notice me. I take aim and throw the trident at him and it makes contact, piercing his chest and going through his back; his heart sticking to the two inner pikes. A look of shock crosses over his face and he clumsily stumbles down the steps, taking his last breath before landing on his face. I look back up in the sky at codename bandia and laugh a little, yelling up to her, “I guess that makes me the god now!” I wake up.

I had a strange dream last night:

I am casually walking around an extremely ornate and beautiful room. Wood floors, gold leaf paint covering the lighting fixtures, and lion claw feet on the furniture. A grand chandelier hangs above, illuminating the room and filling it with an aura that exudes warmth and wealth. A handful of my friends are there and we are planning our trip back to the Dominican Republic, all of us very excited. Time flashes forward to the night of departure and I realize that I had been misinformed concerning the expenses for my trip. A check-in agent comes over to me with her laptop and says that I need $776 dollars if I wish to go tonight. I scoff and tell her that I have no more than $200 in my account and ask what my options are. She informs me that I may cancel my trip and I do so, quite upset about it. 

Brandon, Rob, and Justine board the plane by disappearing from the room. Around the room are people I have never met but cannot see clearly either. Their forms are not unlike a crowd of grey silhouettes, no personalities, murmuring amongst themselves more than speaking. Right then, at the foot of the bed in a fancy chair, an elderly woman fades into view. I am more curious than fearful and I approach her. Suddenly a brief, but loud rumbling fills the room and the lady’s eyes turn jet black. Her arms turn the same color and take on the qualities of elastic doused in liquid. Her arms drive into the ground, expanding and stretching as they rip through the wood; black tears streaming down her cheeks.

I am a pretty mellow lad and there isn’t too much that phases me, but as this happened I became a bit unsettled. She snaps her head in my direction and sneers at me. I look away. Her voice changes and has lost it’s feminine charm that it likely had before she turned “super demon” on me. She is insistent that I look at her, and so I do. She laughs, though, it has the echo of a hundred wails and it fills the room along with the rumbling. As the entire room shakes around me, I can feel an almost physical sensation around my head that she is responsible for emitting, trying to hold my gaze. I become extremely frightened at this point at look away toward the door. She grunts repeatedly and continues to speak to me; I cannot recall what it was she was talking about, though. Her arms continue to relentlessly rip into the floor as she tries to make me look into her eyes.

Unexpectedly, I look right at her, taking a deep breath and, leaning forward, let out what sounds like 10 lion’s roaring simultaneously, causing her to scream and wail back at me. The room begins to fill with shadows and rays of light, both of which seem to be jostling for supremacy. Everything freezes…nothing moves at all…and I wake up.

I had a strange dream last night:

I was floating in a large watery area, there was fog blocking the long view and a round platform made of stone in the middle. I heard voices coming up from the water and i dropped 4 glowing seeds into it. Everything went black and all i could hear was the rushing of the water. 

A flash of light broke and i began rapidly flying around. I was attached to this gargantuan vine with a bright pink flower head. It was whipping about–the base of it below the water, circling the platform. There was another vine trying to attack me; the one i was attached to spat poison at it and choked it with it’s other tentacle. I heard a woman’s voice scream at me that she would get me (and my little dog too?). Two other forces emerged from the water from the seeds i had dropped–one of them represented steel and iron. I do not recall what the other 2 were or represented. They all engaged each other violently.

Eventually, i threw a metallic rope to the circular platform and swung over to it. I heard a chain of loud bangs; the water exploded and the vine that had been protecting me roared, taking down 2 of the other monstrosities along with it. Before they all smashed into the platform i was standing on, i threw that rope at the steel & iron creature, which had turned into a thick, giant floating sheet of metal. As soon as i latched on everything went black.

I heard the murmur of a great crowd and eventually gained focus. I was in an airport with Brandon, Justine, and Marcus. We boarded the plane–though the inside seemed like a private jet. I became very excited the faster we went. We took off and suddenly Marcus was piloting the craft. He rolled it a few times as a joke and i almost vomited on Justine. Marcus disappeared and was replaced by another pilot. He would cut the engines , causing the plane to plummet and drift, scaring the hell out of everyone else.

I made some lame joke about speedcar drifting. Nobody laughed. Fail! I looked outside and everything below us was on fire and black smoke filled the air. Marcus reappeared and the pilot had a twisted smirk on his face. Brandon and i stormed up to the cockpit and started hitting the pilot, yelling at him to fly the plane properly. Eventually he got the point and we were back on track, though everything on the ground was still ablaze. He would not tell us why. Everything went black again.

I was in a grocery store but there was hardly anybody in it. I heard a roar and to my left was a Bengal tiger (i guess it was there for the Tuesday special they were having on all Post cereal’s?). It was in pursuit of Brandon, but he looked different. He yelled for me to follow him so i gave him directions on how to get to the safe area in the produce section. The produce section turned into a small village area and he jumped 2 stories through a window to get away from it. The tiger paced back and forth at the foot of the “hut”.

I became angry , stomped my foot and as i opened my mouth a lion’s roar came out of it, not only grabbing the tiger’s attention but infuriating it. It charged me and i braced myself for impact. It must have leapt 5 feet at me and we collided. i grabbed its throat and rained blows on its face and under its side. I swiped at me and its claws ripped a good deal of flesh from my neck. As the blood poured onto the floor, little trees sprouted up through the ground, no higher than my knees.

Some youngling who i had never seen appeared next to a massive freezer, whistling to the tiger in a strange way. The tiger ran at him and leapt, but the boy jumped into the freezer and the tiger followed. I ran up against the doors to hold them closed and screamed at B to grab the guns. He slowly made his way out, hauling a massive cart of old looking and futuristic ones. The tiger sat there, staring at me rather calmly in spite of the sense of urgency i felt.

Some other people appeared and, despite me telling them not to touch anything in the freeer, they tried arranging some giant stones around the tiger, making it angry. It burst through the glass, knocking me back, killing 3 people immediately and pursuing another. I grabbed a 1900’s era hunting rifle and took off after it. It was mauling one of the people as i approached. I jumped onto a pallet, cocked the rifle, aimed and let off a shot, hitting the tiger directly in it’s face, pissing it off. I lunged at me and i jumped off the pallet. Another shot rang out and the tiger screamed. Brandon was off in the distance, looking down the scope of his rifle. I gave him a signal and led the tiger on a chase around the front end area, periodically shooting it in it’s face and Brandon did the same.

Eventually, the tiger pounced on me and sunk it’s teeth into my neck, causing plants and vines to sprout up all around me. I got on my back, grabbed my rifle, stuck it into the tiger’s mouth and unleashed everything i had. It’s head exploded and the body flew back some 8 feet. By the time i had gotten up to look at the body, it had transformed into a human body. The man got up and chuckled, patting me on the back, thanking me for freeing him. Everything went black.