Dream
So we’re in a place that seems very similar to Las Vegas but it looks more futuristic, the lights are brighter, and it’s right at the edge of the ocean. I’m walking along the shore, on a boardwalk, and there’s a long fence with propaganda like posters with various quotes (obviously made up). They say things like, “Tomorrow is the Now! –Kearney Williams” and, “These are the fights where victors there are not.” –Angelo McDonald. Who the Hell are those people?! I don’t know, but I walk along the path any way and for some reason I’m carrying a long stick with a harpoon-like device on the end of it. What is that?
I come to the edge of the Boardwalk and I put down my stick-weapon because it’s the start of the city and there are bright, neon lights and hoards of people. It’s like the city in “Blade Runner” only less depressing and with a sky that looks like that scene in “Contact” when Jodie Foster’s character travels into space and meets her dad/alien. Really bizarre but extremely beautiful. For whatever reason, as I’m walking, I come across a row of couples, a man and woman, completely identical and each man looks like Frank Sinatra dressed head-to-toe in a black and white tuxedo. The woman on his arm, I can’t make out an identity, wears a long, red dress and I can tell she’s drop-dead gorgeous. And there’s, like, fifty of these couples, all in a straight line, just standing there. As I get closer they start to walk and then they all just fade into the background of the other people walking around this plaza-sort of area.
It’s as I’m weaving through this metropolis that I notice Patrick walking through the crowd. I can’t tell if he’s with someone or not, but he’s got this really nice coat on and as he passes by me he kind of hits me in the face with his elbow. I stop and look at him and then notice this group of four Peruvian looking tourists laughing at me, sort of like, “Did you see that asshole just get hit in the face?!” I try to play it off like, “Oh, he’s my friend so it’s cool.” Patrick finally notices me and offers me a cigarette but he says we have to go up on the roof to enjoy it. “Alright,” I say, and then we’re off.
So, we’re weaving in and out of the crowds until we arrive at this hotel and, for whatever reason, we have to take a service elevator half-way up and then stairs to the roof. As we’re taking the stairs we come to certain points where the stairs lead to a window that we have to step out of in order to get to the next level. So, as we hit these spots I notice that Patrick is flying through these obstacles like he’s Super Mario or something, like, he’s really just leaping straight through the window, not even touching the sides. I figure, “Oh, well, piece of cake,” so I try the same move, only I get stuck in the frame. Really stick fast. I can’t even move.
He’s moving along, not breaking stride once. I’m trying to call up to him to slow down because I’m stuck in this window like an idiot. I notice there’s a room to this window I’m hanging out of and in this window is a group of about five sorority-style girls and they’re staring right at me, laughing. One of them walks over to me, some smoking-hot blond, and I ask her for help. She grabs me by the legs and yanks me out of the window with body-builder strength. I tell her thank you and immediately climb through to catch up to Patrick.
It’s at this point that everything gets hazy. I remember standing on a roof, smoking a cigarette, asking Patrick why the Hell he didn’t wait up for me. Then I’m back in my own town, driving along a street, like nothing ever happened.
But I’m still asleep! The dream doesn’t end. I’m driving along this street by a high school, fast approaching a stop light at a T-cross (is that what you call that part of a road?) Doesn’t matter. I’m coming up to this stop when I notice about four or five police officers. They’ve got this woman pulled over onto this embankment. Their guns are drawn and she’s exiting her car. I start to slow down. Shit’s about to get real. She gets out of her car and they have her step away slowly, her hands up, her chest towards them. From what I can see they look serious as Hell and they have her turn around. As she’s turning she starts to do this dance, kind of like an Irish jig or something. She’s wearing polka dot pants and is about to get blown away. She keeps moving and they’re telling her not to. That’s when they open fire, only they must be Stormtroopers because they miss completely.
She’s still turning as they miss and, in one swift move, she pulls out what looks like a sub-machine gun, something automatic (I don’t know guns) and just mows them down like some trained killer. Intense stuff. This is where I decide to get the Hell out of there. I spin my car around, running over the curb in the process, hoping she doesn’t notice me. I’m speeding away when I hear “POP” several times. “Oh, shit,” I think. Did I get hit? I can feel my face start to throb and tighten. Everything is warm and I look in the rear-view mirror and notice blood on my neck. “Shit,” yeah, I got hit. I don’t know how. I’m speeding towards my house, holding my neck, freaking the Hell out. I start breathing heavy and fast because I know I’m not going to make it. It gets fuzzy, the road, and the houses, they all get real bright. It all starts to go as I round the corner towards home. And then I wake up.
