Blog: The Most Random Dream... Ever
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The Most Random Dream... Ever - Friday, May 4, 2007
This morning I had the most vivid and completely random dream I have yet to experience. The following is an account of that, to the best of my recollection. If you enjoy the sort of story that makes little, if any, sense at all, then do read on.
It all started with me being some sort of secret agent, trying to suppress the efforts of a renegade military force, having infiltrated their ranks as a member. There were about ten of us: a commander who was a pretty but fierce young white woman, and everybody else being a mercenary. We were all in uniform, and the base of operation was none other than... my church.
Their present activity was trying to light a bonfire inside the church foyer next to the stairs. The commander and two mercenaries proceeded to make a small stack of hay and douse it with gasoline. They had poured a trail of gasoline on the floor leading to the hay pile and were standing near the pile dumping more hay on it. One of the mercenaries off to the side was playing with a medium-length rod that served as a lighter.
At this point I was able to freeze time and point the flaming lighter, still in the guy's hands, towards where the gasoline was on the floor. When I unfroze time, the gasoline caught fire and the whole pile with the commander and the two people with her were engulfed in a burst of flame. Unfortunately this did not last and the fire quickly died out, and she came storming furiously towards me and asked if I had a hand in that little charade, for I had been standing right behind the guy with the lighter. I was unable to reply, but the guy, whom I now recognized to be Neil, a floormate from UCLA, sheepishly admitted that he was responsible. He was instantly led away, never to been seen again, by two mercenaries, one holding on to each of his arms.
It was then that I realized that I had failed to steal the commander's key card, which would have allowed me access into an important restricted area. I could not devise a way to pull it off, and shortly many more mercenaries turned up, until we numbered about 40 and were crowding the church foyer. It seemed at this point that my chances of suppressing this group were getting thinner.
Around this point the military uniforms that we were wearing had turned into our regular civilian clothes. The commander ordered us all to exit the main church building, and counted us off while directing half of us though the west exit and half of us through the east. This was somewhat strange as we would rejoin in the back, but I suppose it was to ease the flow of traffic. I was sent through the east exit, and I noticed that Priscilla was there in front of me in her maroon Roxy jacket. We never actually spoke, nor did I speak to anybody else, throughout the entire dream. All of us mercenaries met up the back of the church, but the buildings that should have been there were not, and we walked straight to the left to the parking lot, lining up on the sidewalk edge. This is where things started to get interesting.
A caravan of small vehicles pulled into the campus, and about half a dozen Russian soldiers emerged, and in the middle a massive man whose distinct, sharp outfit identified him as a high-ranking Russian military official. He pulled out a rectangular box-like object, inside which was a green-striped missile. The scene, I thought, reminded me of an unknown movie in which somebody shot a missile out of a mailbox. The man pointed the box above our heads and prepared to fire. Nobody from our mercenary group so much as moved a muscle, and it became apparent that we had hired these Russians for this particular task.
The Russian launched the missile, and off it went as I turned around to watch, shooting low above building tops until it struck the front of the Treasure Island hotel (from Las Vegas), which was about half a mile away. The missile exploded, causing the building to crumble upon itself and topple forward, which was not the intended effect. The hotel fell and slammed into a 20-story tall building, which was incidentally a frat house, sending that building toppling forward in a perfect example of a domino effect. The frat house then tumbled into the main church building, which had now become what looked like the Oviatt Library from CSUN, except darker and sporting more steel on the outside. Unfortunately not even this steel-reinforced building could withstand this kind of impact, and it collapsed quite readily.
Fire and a thick black cloud of ash leaped into the sky from the collapsed buildings and created something of a sinister mushroom cloud. The group of mercenaries had now become students, and our campus, seemingly Yale or Cornell (or some other prestigious university), was royally messed up. Nobody seemed the least bit upset at the Russians, and rather people seemed to be revering them, with all the students going forth all at once to kiss the cheek of the high-ranking official. I went forward with the others, but halfway there I could not understand why we would be revering people who had destroyed our campus, so I walked away.
Suddenly, from the burning buildings, a compacted wave of ashen air raced straight in our direction. It was shaped like a semi-truck, and it slammed into a couple of the Russians and crashed through the brick wall in the parking lot, leaving an imprint of a semi-truck. Though nobody was alarmed, everybody independently decided it was a good idea to get to the other side of the parking lot. The gate to the parking lot was open, and the traffic outside was going by normally. It seemed like the fire and ash were raging only inside of the large campus grounds, and outside the walls nobody seemed to notice anything was amiss. Nonetheless, nobody exited the campus. I quite easily leaped up onto the 30-foot tall wall and sat at the top, watching more of the black gusts of wind slamming through the smoky remains of the campus.
At this point my psyche found itself accessing my computer and looking up the ensuing event on Wikipedia. I discovered that what was going on was actually a movie which was an adaptation of a book whose title I could not pronounce. Well whatever movie this was, it sure was trippy.
The gusts were coming in more frequently now, and now they had taken on the form of sliding barred gates, like the ones on prison cells. They thundered with the sound of a train bolting down the tracks towards you. I decided that it would be fun to run into the middle of the parking lot and dodge the gates as they were coming in. So I did just that.
At first it was easy. Just one gate at a time. Step to the right, step to the left. Then two gates at a time. Still a walk in the park. Then I tripped over my dog Lady, who had gotten behind me. As I picked myself up, I saw three gates, very close together, racing towards me. "Is that a space between the rightmost two?" It was so small to tell. "No, the space between the leftmost two seems bigger. Oh, but is it big enough??" Finally as the gates were near enough I realized that I didn't have enough space to fit between them. I tried to run out of the way of the three gates completely. But it was too late. WHAM. I was instantly killed. I felt no pain, but the scene instantly faded into white, with a Game Over message. Then I jolted awake.
Now if all that wasn't crazy, I don't know what is.
It all started with me being some sort of secret agent, trying to suppress the efforts of a renegade military force, having infiltrated their ranks as a member. There were about ten of us: a commander who was a pretty but fierce young white woman, and everybody else being a mercenary. We were all in uniform, and the base of operation was none other than... my church.
Their present activity was trying to light a bonfire inside the church foyer next to the stairs. The commander and two mercenaries proceeded to make a small stack of hay and douse it with gasoline. They had poured a trail of gasoline on the floor leading to the hay pile and were standing near the pile dumping more hay on it. One of the mercenaries off to the side was playing with a medium-length rod that served as a lighter.
At this point I was able to freeze time and point the flaming lighter, still in the guy's hands, towards where the gasoline was on the floor. When I unfroze time, the gasoline caught fire and the whole pile with the commander and the two people with her were engulfed in a burst of flame. Unfortunately this did not last and the fire quickly died out, and she came storming furiously towards me and asked if I had a hand in that little charade, for I had been standing right behind the guy with the lighter. I was unable to reply, but the guy, whom I now recognized to be Neil, a floormate from UCLA, sheepishly admitted that he was responsible. He was instantly led away, never to been seen again, by two mercenaries, one holding on to each of his arms.
It was then that I realized that I had failed to steal the commander's key card, which would have allowed me access into an important restricted area. I could not devise a way to pull it off, and shortly many more mercenaries turned up, until we numbered about 40 and were crowding the church foyer. It seemed at this point that my chances of suppressing this group were getting thinner.
Around this point the military uniforms that we were wearing had turned into our regular civilian clothes. The commander ordered us all to exit the main church building, and counted us off while directing half of us though the west exit and half of us through the east. This was somewhat strange as we would rejoin in the back, but I suppose it was to ease the flow of traffic. I was sent through the east exit, and I noticed that Priscilla was there in front of me in her maroon Roxy jacket. We never actually spoke, nor did I speak to anybody else, throughout the entire dream. All of us mercenaries met up the back of the church, but the buildings that should have been there were not, and we walked straight to the left to the parking lot, lining up on the sidewalk edge. This is where things started to get interesting.
A caravan of small vehicles pulled into the campus, and about half a dozen Russian soldiers emerged, and in the middle a massive man whose distinct, sharp outfit identified him as a high-ranking Russian military official. He pulled out a rectangular box-like object, inside which was a green-striped missile. The scene, I thought, reminded me of an unknown movie in which somebody shot a missile out of a mailbox. The man pointed the box above our heads and prepared to fire. Nobody from our mercenary group so much as moved a muscle, and it became apparent that we had hired these Russians for this particular task.
The Russian launched the missile, and off it went as I turned around to watch, shooting low above building tops until it struck the front of the Treasure Island hotel (from Las Vegas), which was about half a mile away. The missile exploded, causing the building to crumble upon itself and topple forward, which was not the intended effect. The hotel fell and slammed into a 20-story tall building, which was incidentally a frat house, sending that building toppling forward in a perfect example of a domino effect. The frat house then tumbled into the main church building, which had now become what looked like the Oviatt Library from CSUN, except darker and sporting more steel on the outside. Unfortunately not even this steel-reinforced building could withstand this kind of impact, and it collapsed quite readily.
Fire and a thick black cloud of ash leaped into the sky from the collapsed buildings and created something of a sinister mushroom cloud. The group of mercenaries had now become students, and our campus, seemingly Yale or Cornell (or some other prestigious university), was royally messed up. Nobody seemed the least bit upset at the Russians, and rather people seemed to be revering them, with all the students going forth all at once to kiss the cheek of the high-ranking official. I went forward with the others, but halfway there I could not understand why we would be revering people who had destroyed our campus, so I walked away.
Suddenly, from the burning buildings, a compacted wave of ashen air raced straight in our direction. It was shaped like a semi-truck, and it slammed into a couple of the Russians and crashed through the brick wall in the parking lot, leaving an imprint of a semi-truck. Though nobody was alarmed, everybody independently decided it was a good idea to get to the other side of the parking lot. The gate to the parking lot was open, and the traffic outside was going by normally. It seemed like the fire and ash were raging only inside of the large campus grounds, and outside the walls nobody seemed to notice anything was amiss. Nonetheless, nobody exited the campus. I quite easily leaped up onto the 30-foot tall wall and sat at the top, watching more of the black gusts of wind slamming through the smoky remains of the campus.
At this point my psyche found itself accessing my computer and looking up the ensuing event on Wikipedia. I discovered that what was going on was actually a movie which was an adaptation of a book whose title I could not pronounce. Well whatever movie this was, it sure was trippy.
The gusts were coming in more frequently now, and now they had taken on the form of sliding barred gates, like the ones on prison cells. They thundered with the sound of a train bolting down the tracks towards you. I decided that it would be fun to run into the middle of the parking lot and dodge the gates as they were coming in. So I did just that.
At first it was easy. Just one gate at a time. Step to the right, step to the left. Then two gates at a time. Still a walk in the park. Then I tripped over my dog Lady, who had gotten behind me. As I picked myself up, I saw three gates, very close together, racing towards me. "Is that a space between the rightmost two?" It was so small to tell. "No, the space between the leftmost two seems bigger. Oh, but is it big enough??" Finally as the gates were near enough I realized that I didn't have enough space to fit between them. I tried to run out of the way of the three gates completely. But it was too late. WHAM. I was instantly killed. I felt no pain, but the scene instantly faded into white, with a Game Over message. Then I jolted awake.
Now if all that wasn't crazy, I don't know what is.