I had a strange dream last night:

This feels like heaven, nirvana.  Words do little justice to the impression I am left with.  Such….peace.  Finally.  Finally I feel peace.  I can rest.  I care not about going any further or to something greater, as this does indeed suffice.  I look around……..off in the distance ahead stand silver mountains, dramatically pushing through the white, billowing clouds above & covered in greenery from the foliage and trees growing on them.  A light green carpet of grass stretches out in every direction, the simple, beautiful monotony of it broken by the occasional old, twisty tree.  I hear the sound of water.  I look behind me and a mighty river bubbles up into view, its current rushing along in slow motion, making every glint of sunlight reflecting off the surface seem like diamonds that have been suspended in time.  I have nothing to say, I don’t even shed a tear of happiness; the only feeling I have at this moment is peace.  Serenity.  I feel like I am home again.

I inhale deeply, the smell of flowers filling my nostrils, and I close my eyes.  Through my closed lids I detect a shadow come over me and I look up to the sun, now wrapped up in bands of clouds and it pulsates.  The clouds quickly engulf it and turn it into an opaque, throbbing ball but I am alright with it.  The air has a different sort of feeling to it, but it is still very pleasant.  Suddenly, the sun bursts forth from the clouds, turning them to steam, and I explode in flames.  I feel no physical pain, but am very aware that my entire body is alight, even my eyes, and I hear the roaring sound that usually accompanies a large fire.  I inhale slowly, deeply; a concentrated tingling feeling takes over my limbs & head and the heat is not unbearable-it is consistent but not uncomfortably hot.  I walk toward the mountain and, able to see in a 360 degree view, notice the prints I am leaving in my wake.  Although I walk with my feet, I leave fiery hand prints behind me, black ones that burn the earth.  Nothing smells like it is burning, quite the contrary, I can still smell the flowers everywhere.

Within minutes into my journey toward the mountain, I hear a distant whinnying and look up at the sun, which has now turned black but is somehow still as bright as before and notice a dark, winged creature flying out from it.  It takes only seconds to approach me: a beautiful black horse with wings.  It dramatically swoops past me, bull snorting out of it’s flared nostrils and takes off back to the sun, kicking it’s legs with every downward thrust of it’s feathery, black wings.  It eventually collides with the sun, instantly turning it into the moon, which causes the ground beneath my feet to split, leaving a gap in the ground of about 6 inches or so.  I wake up.

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I had a strange dream last night:

It smells warm out here.  It should, I suppose, since I am in the evening desert.  The sun is beginning it’s descent and the far reaches of the sky in the east are colored in purple & indigos.  I look up at the concrete, 80 story high-rise apartment building next to me, trying to see into the 77th window, where my friend Olivia is living.  She is the only one in this building and there are no other buildings in sight.  For an hour we “hang out”, though she is in her apartment the whole time and I am outside by a grouping of oak trees, oak trees whose branches twist and corkscrew and whose roots loop up out of the ground.  I take a hit of the joint in my hand and she does the same; my old friend Mike appears.  He and I walk around the perimeter to the back yard and take shelter under a shady grove of trees and he disappears.  A fat fella struts across the yard with his pet “Ostrich mini”, sets up a card table, places his little friend on it, pulls out his pellet gun, and begins target practice.

I tell Olivia that I am going to get rid of the heavy lad and put an end to his mildly disturbing hobby of shooting midget birds.  I yell out to her that I just experienced deja vu and she says goodbye.  I approach the gunman and his body odor assaults my nostrils, making me resent him for not taking care of his hygiene.  I casually inform them that he will stop shooting his bird and he turns around to face me but has no face.  The sun burns out and the sky turns to night with stars overhead pulsating to a rhythm I cannot hear.  He points his pellet gun at me, causing me to laugh at the absurdity of his threat, but, at that moment, the sound of heavy boots hitting the ground fill the air and I hear soldiers yelling orders & swearing in German.  I snap my head to the left and see Nazi’s fast approaching.  The same thing occurs on my right and then in front of me.

Erratically and quickly, a hole is torn through the space in front of me.  I peer as deep as I can into it, noting the dot of light at the end of the tunnel.  The walls are lined in stone and I can hear the sound of rushing wind.  The Nazi soldiers stop marching and begin what seems like an incantation of sorts.  I feel a disturbance in the air above me and look up: go-karts are falling from the sky.  Olivia reappears as the karts hit the ground.  A small crowd of people appear immediately afterwards and we hop in, buckle up, and hit the gas, driving as fast as we can toward the end of the tunnel and away from the Nazi’s.  Each time we get halfway through the tunnel, we appear back at the start and the Nazi’s fire their weapons into the air.  After a few tries, we all become so determined to make it to the end of the tunnel that we drive over each other.  Everything begins to shake and vibrate and the Nazi soldiers crumble like sand.  Black.

I am now in front of the house that my friend Jesse’s grew up in, asking him to come outside.  He steps out from the front door and points behind me at an enormous rocket.  We laugh and grab the tail end of it and it takes off into space with us holding on.  Within seconds it crashes into the moon and throws us into a crater.  We spend what feels like the next few hours running all over the moon, taking pictures and performing zero-gravity stunts.  From the bowels of this rock, comes a booming voice that yells “Enough” and I appear in Washington D.C. in some sort of archive/intelligence center to explain what I was doing on the moon.  Having the pictures and video handy would be convenient but I am not able to find any of it aside from one blurry and beat-up picture to present as proof that I have been to the moon.  All of the computers in the room shut down and I throw the picture at the sole individual in the room with me, an old man.  It freezes in mid air and everything goes black.  I wake up.