Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Freaky house

I bought the house was right next to Ken and Alaina. It was a cool design: two floors, each with furnaces. These furnaces were actually little jet nozzles that blasted regular fire around the base of every room to keep them warm. So, instead of an actual furnace where the flame was covered, this was an uncovered flame. It was really cool! Well, OK, it was really hot. The basement of the house was in constant flames. This was the heart of the furnace. All the heat that came into the house came from this fire. If you needed to fuel it, there was a door in the middle of the home where you could feed it wood or some other form of fuel. This was the main fuel door, but there were other fuel doors as well. For some odd reason they looked more like graves...

When I bought the house the person told me the story behind it, and why it was so inexpensive.

There was a man and his mother living there. They were known throughout the neighborhood as the peaceful sort, and everyone liked them. They were always having people over, or helping out their neighbors with anything they needed help with, big or little, and never asked for anything in return. Nevertheless, people came to them to help them out all the time. It was a very good situation, and life was going well. Somehow, the man became possessed, and killed his mother there in the furnace. No one is sure how or really why, but when one is possessed by a demon, there isn't much reason why except that they are driven by pure evil. However, when he was forcing his mother through the fuel door, the spirit left him, and he fell through the door, taking her with him. It isn't known whether he went unconscious and fell into the furnace with his mother under him, or if the demon shoved them both through. In any case, all the mother saw was her son pushing her into the furnace. Her soul demanded vengeance for the evil wrought upon her, and it stayed in the house after she died. His soul also remained in the house, but it became one with the furnace. The demonic possession allowed other demons into the house, and one also came specifically to possess the building itself.

Well, being Catholic, I knew that I had to have the house blessed, but before I did that, I wanted to clean it up. Since news travels fast, Donna came by to visit me in the house. I hadn't seen her in quite some time, and I let her in and we chatted for a few minutes while I was cleaning up. Shortly after being let in, she got possessed by one of the random souls in the house, and she came after me to kill me. I knocked her out.

I figured that I needed to warn other people, so I ran next door to warn Ken and Alaina to not come over at all until I told them that it was all right to visit. It would not be safe for them over there. As I was about to leave, I saw the possessed Donna standing right outside the screen door, staring at me with pure hatred in her eyes. Ken was about to let her in, but I told him not to. When she saw that he was not going to let her in, she smiled and somehow squeezed through the screen of the screen door (in reality, there isn't a screen door on the house -- it's a glass storm door). However, the angels protecting Ken and Alaina's house prevented her from entering their house, so she was stuck between the doors.

I had to resolve this situation quickly. Since she was stuck in between the doors on the side, I used the front of their house and ran back to my house. I figured that the best way to dispel the spirits was to start with the furnace. I challenged them spirits by flushing water down the graves. The house seemed to come to life with this, but before I could do anything else, I woke up.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Best Buy, a Pirate Ship, and the Electric Chair

This dream was friggin' weird. I was working at Best Buy and I sold Alex a new computer set. It was a Compaq Presario system with all the newest technology. Alex's dad was there. He saw the computer, and he really liked it. We loaded it up into the back of Alex's new truck (a Ford F-150), and since I was just getting off work, I rode with them. The computer was put onto the tailgate (which was not closed). Mr. S. drove the truck with the computer sitting on the edge of the tailgate, and tore out of the parking lot. He was really excited about the new truck and the new computer. He took a back way home, but the road suddenly ended and the truck, the computer, and everyone in it fell into the ocean.

When I landed in the ocean, there was no sign of Alex or his dad (or, for that matter, the truck or the computer). Off in the distance, I saw a small boat, and I started swimming towards it. They must have seen me, too, because I got to them really quickly, and they offered to take me on board. I quickly agreed, and I came on board. I asked them what they were doing in the middle of the ocean in such a small boat, and they told me that they were looking for a ship. They explained to me that the ship they were looking for was the greatest ship known to exist. It was meant for both water and the air. It's previous owners had all died, and the ship sunk. However, the ship was indestructible -- all it needed was a crew. Sounded like quite an adventure, and although I don't particularly care for sailing the seas, I love flying. We searched on for a while, and we chanced to see something funny up ahead. We looked down into the ocean, and sure enough, we were right on top of it. We all jumped overboard and swam down to the sleeping behemoth of a ship. As we all assumed a position, the ship began to rise straight up of its own accord, and we were soon at the surface. All the water drained out, and the gold trimming on the ship gleamed as though it was freshly polished. We looked around to see if we could tell who the last owners were -- on the flag pole was mounted the well known pirate flag, the Jolly Roger. It was soon apparent that we weren't going to change the flag, so I opted to live in the moment and act all piratey. Anyway, the captain ordered us all to take our places, and proceeded to get the ship airborne. After hovering for a few seconds amid cheers of the sailors, we took off to the moon.

When we landed, the military was ready for us. I was caught, tried and convicted as a traitor to the country for being a pirate. I and all my shipmates were taken to prison to await our final moments. I was given the chair as my method of execution, and the right to a final confession was denied me. As they led me out of my cell and towards the execution chamber, I saw a line of people in front of me, consisting of all ages. I saw, much to my surprise, that "all ages" included children. They were all coming to see me die. The children were excited, the women and mothers were crying, and the men and fathers were very stalwart -- quite a mixed reaction, and one that I would egotistically expect. Then I saw that the line was not going into the viewing area -- the line was going into the electrocution chamber. Everyone was asked to sit in their chairs, and they were all fastened to the seats. I then heard one of the children ask when the movie was going to start. His mother, trying her best to be brave, told him very soon. I looked around in horror when I saw that there was nothing that I could do to get them out or to get myself out. I had already been fastened down, and most of my shipmates has already been executed. The walls of room that we were in suddenly became transparent, and the bodies of all my comrades could been seen. As I felt the spike of electricity snap through my body, I woke up.

Monday, December 11, 2006

A wedding and a funeral

This is the second time that I've had a dream within a dream. Odd, huh?

The first part of the dream was a wedding. (This was most definitely inspired by Josh's wedding.) I was at St. Pius X, one of my old parishes in Dallas, and it was my wedding day. I don't know to whom. All I know is that I was getting married. I was looking around for evidence that I had prepared for this wedding at all, and I couldn't find any. There were groomsmen (but I couldn't find them), the bride's family was there (although I couldn't identify them), there were bridesmaids (I can't remember who), there were hundreds of guests (bride's family, even though the wedding was in my hometown), the church was decked out (looked more like an emperor's coronation than my wedding), and everything was almost ready to go. Everyone was dressed to impress...

...except me. I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I was wandering around the church in absolute shock, thinking to myself, "Why am I doing this? What is going on? Who is the unfortunate girl?" and other such thoughts. I exited the church, and I walked down the steps looking for the groomsmen, or at least someone to explain to me what in the world was going on. Suddenly, the doors across the way burst open, and out marched all the sacristans that I have ever known from Christendom, all dressed in morning coats with an ensemble very much like the Knights of Columbus. Daniel and Brendan were in the lead, scanning the area for something. I approached them, and they saw me -- apparently, I was what they were searching for. Ken and Alex were laughing at my attire, while Fadi, John E., and Adam just tried to angle me in the direction I needed to go. Daniel was speaking to me in his commanding tone, telling me to go get dressed, as Brendan was giving me preparation advice -- I think it was how to put the sword on. Everyone else was just waiting for these guys to get done so that they could get into the church on time.

Anyway, so without much in the way of explanation, I went through the door that they told me to go through, and I was in a kitchen. On a counter top in the back corner was my attire, and it was definitely gaudy. I looked at it, and began putting it on, but I thought to myself, "No, this is a bad idea." I woke up when I sat down and tried to make sense of it all. I think it was about the time when I was examining my finances and conscience simultaneously to see if I was prepared in any way for this. And, just so you know, I wasn't...

Saturday, December 09, 2006

A dream in a dream

I'm not sure of the structure of the dream I had last night. It was either two separate dreams, or it was a dream in a dream. I don't remember much about the first part, except that the first dream was a nightmare full of monsters, and I was honestly terrified of it. I woke up crying, if that means anything. For the record, I usually enjoy nightmares. They are a thrill ride, but not this time.

The second part was also a lot of fun, but I can't remember much about it either. All I remember was that it was not a nightmare, and it was really cool...

Sunday, November 12, 2006

Josh's wedding

I dreamed that the day had come for Josh's wedding, but I had still not written the speech yet. I was walking down the street with Joe P. looking for the church where Josh was going to get married in when I stumbled across a Best Buy. I realized that they have paper and a pen in the back of the place where they kept their inventory and back-stock. I went into the back of the store and started up a conversation with the girls in the warehouse. I told them of my dilemma and how I was a former Best Buy employee, and they gave me paper and a pen. I thanked them and left.

And that's about where it ends...

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Grizzly Bear

This was a bit of an odd dream. I dreamed that I was driving along and I saw a dead tree further up the road behind a white picket fence, and in that tree was a bear. It was just sitting there looking at me. I thought it was a black bear, so I made sure to be careful around it, but I wasn't too terribly worried. The closer I got, the more that I saw that I was wrong. It was a brown bear. I was a bit worried about that. I finally got really close to it, and I saw that it was a grizzly. I freaked out a little, but kept driving. After all, it was waiting for me to pass by. I had the right-of-way. What was it going to do, attack me?

Then I saw that the grizzly in the tree was just a little one, as a gigantic one arose from behind the white picket fence. This bear stood up on its hind legs, and was almost as tall as the tree. It looked this way and that, waited for me to pass, and then crossed the street. The smaller one (which my brain decided was a full-sized female grizzly) roared for the larger (male) to wait, and then it also crossed the street.

Odd, huh?

Friday, September 29, 2006

Another new car

I bought a new car for $900 from Ida F. I'm not sure why I did, because the car was a complete wreck. It was twisted, not just six, but seven ways from Sunday, and in general, I was not too happy with my purchase. However, I thought, "Hey, I can fix this! It'll be great when I'm done!"

This car was a Chevy Cavalier. It was a cute little car, or at least it had been. Some repairs had been done, but not enough, and the repairs were more like temporary patches and some "quick fixes".

The front side had been torn up, and, in an effort to hide this, the frame of the car and the seats had all been reversed. When you were inside the car, you sat forward, looking out the rear window, with the back of the front seat against your chest. The steering wheel was in front of the seat as you had your chest against it, or behind it, if you prefer to think about it like that. You had to reach around the seat to grab the steering wheel.

On the new front, which was the trunk, there were two makeshift headlights. These headlights made the Cavalier look rather like an old tractor with the bubble headlights. I don't quite know how they worked with the brake lights, because they had not been transferred to the back, so all the lights were on the front (back?) of the car.

Also, where the bumper should have been was a huge gap. There was simply no bumper there at all. And this car was classified as fixed...

Needless to say, I flipped out just a little bit...

I walked around the car, and saw all of these changes. I thought to myself, I need to get inside this car. How would I fit?

The first thing I noticed was that the transmission gears and shifter had been inverted. It was in the following pattern:

2 4 R
1 3 5

The first three gears were the only working gears. However, all three of them hit the reverse gear -- which sent the car forward when you were sitting in it. Shifting gears was thus, rather pointless.

There was one good thing: the frame was in perfect condition, in spite of the fact that the body was virtually destroyed. I woke up thinking gleefully about all the customization possibilities (and nightmares)...

Friday, September 08, 2006

"Jesus Dream"

I had this dream some time ago. It was long before this post, and long before I even started a blog. A lot of people already know about this dream. If you've already heard it, and this will be your Nth time, you can skip this post...

Before I get started, there were two major influences on this dream: Mel Gibson's the Passion of the Christ, and the Lord of the Rings Trilogy, just so you know up front. Yes, they mix -- quite well...

I should also warn people who have not heard this dream before that it portrays me as Jesus Christ. If you believe that this concept is offensive, then please, stop reading. I don't want to have an angry person on my hands because of pieces of what my mind made up. Thus, without further ado, I bring you probably the weirdest dream I've ever had, as well as the most vivid, and probably the most popular...

+ + +

The sun was beginning to set as I ran. I looked around me, and all I saw was a desert, much like the area outside the city of Jerusalem. In fact, that's where I was. It was rocky, and I was running away from the city. I stayed near any mountains that were there, because I didn't want them to find me.

I had been running for some time, and I was beginning to feel it. I raced into the shade of a much larger mountain, but I still didn't stop. I stumbled and fell, but I got right back up and kept running. I looked down at my clothes. I wondered why I was wearing a long robe and sandals. I barely like sandals, and I don't own a robe except for my bathrobe. And what was I doing in Jerusalem?

The dream camera panned out, and I got to looked at myself running along the mountainside. I was a man who looked a lot like Jesus. A whole lot. I suddenly realized what I was doing: I was running from the Jews. But why? Simple: I didn't just look like Jesus, I was Him. I had lived the full life, and I had ridden triumphantly into Jerusalem on the foal of the ass. I had the Last Supper with the disciples, but I could not go any further. I was absolutely terrified, because I knew what was to come next.

I continued running as fast as I could along the rocky desert terrain. (Picture, if you will, terrain very much like what was in the movie Passion of the Christ.) I ran with no end in sight, but desperate to find a hiding place -- anything to get away. Something had to be out there, but I had no idea where it was, or even for what I was looking. All I knew is that it had to hide me, and I had to find it.

The drums indicating the moving men behind me could be heard faintly in the distance. There was no arguing whether or not they were on my trail. Time was all that separated me from them -- time and, I hoped, a great distance. The resolve kicked in again: keep running. Panicking over my inability to hide, I switched courses, running around the base of a mountain towards another one.

There! Something was in the distance! I know it -- I saw it! But I couldn't tell what it was. I listened intently as I ran: the drums were still there, my pursuers had not given up on me already. For all I know, they would be on top of me in no time flat. For all I know, they already saw me. That last thought pumped adrenaline through my veins and I put on a burst of speed -- as fast as one can run in sandals. And, suddenly, I saw my hiding place. It was gloriously simple -- no one would ever think to look for me there!

So, I ran towards this, my miracle of miracles, my saving hiding place. It was a porta potty, large and blue with a white top and sides, hidden very securely between a rock and a dead tree (and yet ironically towering over both), on the side of a desert rocky mountain. "Surely," I thought to myself, "no one will think to look for me here."

I hope you picked up the dripping sarcasm in the previous paragraph. I tried to drench it as best I could. Remember that in spite of the fact that my mind is making me the Son of God, I'm still the fool you know and tolerate.

So, I hurl myself into this porta potty, and slam the door behind me. It had no bad odors, so it was either new, freshly cleaned, or had a nice air circulation system -- this is all beside the point, I know, but I know that some of you are actually wondering just this.

Anyway, so myself + hurled in + no scent = security. Kind of like blue 'n' white + grey rocks + dead trees + desert foliage + pebbles + rocky desert mountain and similar terrain = camouflage. Capishe? Right. We're back on track.

So, I'm sitting there, giving my legs a rest, and I open the door just a crack. I can still hear the drums, but they are definitely louder. I watched as the dust became stirred up, as pebbles started to bounce, and I knew that the men were right on top of me. And sure enough, there they were. They were running in full Jewish army uniform, straight from the Passion, but in the orcish formation from the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I watched in horror as I saw more soldiers then I ever expected to see come jogging around the mountain side. There was a literal army after me. They were all just jogging, and doing some sort of cadence, but I didn't really want to open the door wider to hear it.

After a minute or so of watching lines of men jog by, the end was in sight. The rear was brought up by one man, who was scanning the land. He saw the porta potty, and kept moving. He suddenly stopped, and stared directly at it, as though just noticing it for the first time -- as though seeing me watch him from the barely open door.

About this time, the porta potty started playing music: Angels by Gregorian was blasting out all over this desert region. This was a wonderful addition to my hiding place.

I stepped quickly back from the door. Had he seen me? I realized that any sudden movement would definitely give my position away, so I peered through the crack again. The man looked puzzled. He surveyed the area and compared it to the porta potty. I prayed that he was just wondering how an American invention from almost 2000 years in the future would end up in his time. He got the look on his face, and ran ahead. I could only assume the worst. He had seen me, and he was reporting me to the chief. I had to form a plan, and quickly. I know! There is a side door inside this porta potty that I would go through, and hide in the extra compartment! Genius!

"Side door?" you may ask, and rightfully so. How many porta potties do you know have these two compartments? None. I should invent one. Why, you may ask? Easy. Say you really have to go to the bafroom, but the darn thing is in use. All you have to do is open the main compartment door, say, "Excuse me, just coming through," and then make your way into the secondary compartment. That's why. The added convenience of two places for the price of one. Never mind that the person in the main compartment will be caught pants down -- all that matters is your relief. Besides that, they'll forgive you. Place this as an advertisement in a 50's style B&W TV commercial and you've got yourself a hit! Sure to bring in the bookoo bucks! We'll call it the Porta-Tony, since it was my idea.


The camera now traveled out of my oh-so-clever hiding place, and hovered high in the air (about 15-20 stories up, I'd guess), high enough to see that the army had jogged their way in a large circle around my hiding place, cutting off any escape for me. There was no way out now. I'd be lucky to survive for the next few minutes -- of course, I didn't know this at the time, because I was still contemplating how to escape.

As the Jewish army completed its circle, it closed in. Time was up, and there was no escaping it anymore for me. Suddenly, elves (yes, another LOTR reference) appeared, but they weren't regular elves. These elves moved as fast as lightning, and they were as powerful as it, too. All you could see was lightning bolts being shot across the center of the circle, and knocking down soldiers left and right. These lightning bolts were the elven arrows being fired faster than you could see and with insane accuracy. However, it seemed that as soon as they had arrived, they left, because their quivers were empty. They had killed more than half of the army, but that still left a huge number of men left to contend with. As these men were helping their fallen comrades, the earth trembled slightly. They looked around -- nothing. Yet the earth shook again, harder this time. Puzzled, they looked at the ground, and behold: another quake, much more powerful than the first two, knocked the army off their feet!

Each time the army tried to regain its footing, another thunderous pulse could be heard on the ground. It was rather like that scene from Jurassic Park, where the footsteps of the approaching Tyrannosaurus Rex can be seen rippling a glass of water, except that this was the land that was moving. Anyway, the camera is still at its angle, angled down towards the porta potty with the army surrounding it, and the cause of these quakes steps into view. There appears the left shoulder of a massive angel. I'm sorry to say that it was a stereotypical, cartoon, gladiator angel: male, curly blond hair (cut in a longish gladiator style), huge muscles, double-edged sword, and giant golden halo hovering above his head. Don't get me wrong, in this case, Im very glad to have this particular avenging angel's help in the matter.

Anywho, the Jews run for their lives, many stumbling over their own feet, the feet of others, and their fallen comrades as the angel glares down at them. His eyes flash fire as he surveys his opponents, and as the last one of them escapes, he sheathes his sword. He looks at the porta potty that he knows I'm in, waiting for me to come out. (BTW, yes, "Angels" is still playing. In fact, about this time, it has practically reached the climax of the piece.) After waiting a few seconds, he realizes that I'm not goign to come out, so he bends down and picks up the porta potty. He opens the door and -- I'm not there. Realizing the Porta-Tony convenience of two compartments, he then reaches inside, and opens the second door. Surprise! I'm not in there either!

Angels are very intelligent creatures, and this one was no exception. I couldn't run, but I wasn't in either compartment. Where was I? The simple answer: pop the top off this Tony and check it that way. Sure enough, I hadn't fled. I had managed to wedge myself into the space between the blue siding and the white rounded side -- inside the speaker. He grabs me my the scruff of my neck (if I had one -- it was actually by the robe), lifts me out, and holds me up in front of his face. I'm very ashamed of myself, and trying to shrink into my robe at this point, because I know I'm going to get it now.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asks me, in as nice a voice as he can muster, considering how far I had deviated from the Divine Plan. I couldn't answer him -- I was speechless. I tried to think of something, I tried to say something -- no words would come. I only shrugged, and hung my head in shame.

"You do know what you are supposed to be doing right now, right?" he persisted. I could only answer in the affirmative in all truth, but I still could not get any words to form. I only nodded my head, knowing what would come next.

"Then, I ask you again: What do you think you're doing?" I felt like a child. I wanted to say things like, "I don't want to do X, Y, or Z", but I knew that answering so was simply out of the picture. I had a mission to fulfill, and humanity to redeem. Quite literally, all the people of the world depended upon me if they ever wanted to go to heaven, and my fear was denying them this, their last hope.

The angel then looked down at the Porta-Tony he was still holding. Angels had indeed reached the climax of the piece and was bridging with the drums, strings, and bells goign off very loudly, and he turned to me again, with a different expression on his face.

"And why are you listening to this?!"

I had no response. I was taken completely off-guard. I wasn't sure why -- it just started playing. But why was it playing? Oh! I know! It was my alarm clock! I was thrilled that I knew the answer and that I had a good answer for the angel. As I opened my mouth, bursting with a childish pride, to answer him, I froze, because I suddenly realized something:

{pop back to reality: I wake up with a start}

Alarm clock?! Darn it all! It's time to get up!

+ + +

The way that I prefer thinking about this dream is that this is close to what would have happened if I had been chosen to redeem mankind, instead of God. Thus, I skirt the accusations of blasphemy. No, really. If a human being knew what was going to happen, and he knew how much pain he would have to undergo to redeem mankind, he would have to be an extremely holy man to stand his ground. I don't think that I could now, or ever could have in my entire life. Not only would I have been terrified, I would have felt unworthy to actually attempt -- nay, even think to attempt to fill the role of Redeemer of Man. God is truly all-wise in His plans, and not I. My ridiculous sufferings have probably not done much to save a single soul, much less the souls of the entire history of humanity.

Anyway, so on that note, I'll close. This dream has taken me months to type, and I hope you enjoy it. Some of you have heard it before, and others will find this one to be new, and probably unique. I invite your thoughts on the matter, if you have any, in the comments. Before you tell me, though, I know -- I have a superiority complex with delusions of grandeur. I know, I know... :)

God Bless! Happy dreaming!

Sunday, September 03, 2006

Lord of the Rings Dream

It was the middle of the Quest to destroy the one Ring. The Fellowship had already been disbanded, and Frodo and Sam were on their own. I was part of the defenders of ring, even though I was only a child. There was with us a great wizard, along the lines of Gandalf, but he was dressed entirely in black. There was also a living magic rope (think of it like the magic carpet from Disney's Aladdin) and a timber wolf. As a child, I was not alone with this group. Dad had his old Ford F150 pickup truck, and he and Liz were with me.

The timber wolf and the magic rope had set out on their own way toward the ice queen's palace. Frodo was already on his way there, but he could not take a direct route -- Sauran would be looking for him. Along the same lines, he would be looking for any of his helpers. Thus, the wolf and the rope raced along from where they had indirectly joined the party to the Frozen Wasteland in the North.

I'm using a map to supplement my knowledge of the area. I don't have the thing memorized, but I do recall from point A to point B. In fact, if you look at the map I drew, you'll see the different paths. I'm sorry that I had to edit the map instead of leaving all photos intact like our friends at Le Chasseur Maudit, but I can't be expected to live up to the high standards that they set for reporters everywhere...

BTW, if the map that I edited isn't showing up in this post, blame Blogger. I uploaded it only a few times...

Beginning roughly at Gray Havens (next to the Gulf of Lune, furthest west on the map), Dad, Liz and I hugged the mountain line northward until we shot east to cross the river. Fortunately for us, the river had gotten significantly lower. The lowest part was crossable. Dad charged the truck into it, but forgot to turn on 4x4, so we were stuck. At this point our vehicle was less of a truck than a boat, and wheels don't do a lot submerged in water and not resting on the ground. We drifted along like this until we go to the other side. The river tossed the front end of the truck up, where Liz and I scrambled out. We pulled out our bows and arrows and made mini-harpoons out of them, but to no avail. Dad was finally able to engage the 4x4, and he was able to drive the truck out. We looked back at the way we came -- it was heavily guarded by hostile forces that had chased us once we left the shadow of the mountain. There was no possibility of turning back now.

We then drove northbound along the edge of the river. We encountered an army that was on its way down south to protect the river border we had just crossed. They tried to stop us, but the truck was next to impossible to stop going as fast as it was. Dad drove on through them, plowing through them like they weren't there.

Further ahead, the timber wolf and the rope were also on their way. They were way north of us, and were going across the Ice Bay. This was monitored by the ice queen's forces, and sure enough, one of their security cameras caught them, taking pictures of both the wolf and the rope as they jumped and slid down a short cliff.

The black wizard was already at the Ice Queen's palace, getting a feel as to whether or not she was friendly to the cause. It turned out that she was fairly neutral -- she was uncomfortable with Sauran being the ultimate, because she wanted to be the ultimate, so in a sense, she was on our side. The fact that she had all of us coming to her turf without invitations made her nervous, and so she had sent her armies. The Black Wizard did his best to convince her to call them back and not engage any of us, but she took it to mean that he was trying to bury a threatening situation. She did not take kindly to that, and summoned her guard.

The black wizard made his exit, but there was an attempt to arrest him. He fled, escaping capture. He fled away from the palace by an open route, and returned through magic to his special room in the palace, which (oddly enough) no one knew about, even though it was his room (well, his old room, when he used to work for the ice queen). Using his wizardry, he knew that the rope and the wolf had been detected, and that the queen would not take so kindly to them, so he tried to send them a signal. I woke up with him reaching out telepathically to all the party members... Posted by Picasa

Thursday, August 31, 2006


I dreamed that it was time to get a new car. In the spirit of this, I went to a user car dealership. It was a small dealership, and his selection was very limited. Two cars caught my eye: one was a modified Nissan Sentra, and the other was a 2001 Ford Mustang Cobra.

The Sentra was a red hatchback. (No, the car does not come in a hatchback model.) I looked closely at it. Beneath one of the taillights was a dent, positioned in the same place as the dent that's on the green Sentra that I owned. I looked at the owner and asked him about it. He apparently knew the vehicle's history rather well. He told me that this was the same car that I had owned. Before I had time to contradict him, he told me it's full recent history.

The car had been stolen while it was sitting at Dane's. In an attempt to hide the vehicle, the thief had painted the car, but that wasn't good enough. Thus, he converted the back end into a hatchback. He was still caught, and the car was put up for sale here, because the rightful owner lived in the area.

Stunned into silence, I looked at my old car. Not wishing to go back to the ways of the past, I got the Mustang. A good friend of mine used to own one. I've driven a couple since then, and my interest in Ford's Pony Car has most certainly not gone down. I just wasn't sure how it would fit my lifestyle...

Anyway, I drove the car off the lot, and headed to Christendom. It was late in the evening, so I crashed at Dane's place. Early the next morning, I drove out to Old St. Mary's for a High Mass. The Mustang definitely cut some time off the journey. On the way back, I did more fancy driving, and I really fell in love with the car. My only problem is that there just wasn't enough room for people. Sure, small people could fit in the back, but it just didn't have the leg room that people my size would need for any kind of long drive...

With this in mind, I returned the car to the dealership. The owner wasn't there: instead, there was a sign on the door, saying where he was. Instead of driving the Mustang out, I parked it, put the keys away, took the keys to the Sentra, and drove it over to where the owner was.

We discussed the swap. He agreed with me: the Sentra would fit me better than the Mustang, mostly because it was more economical, and it had more room. I drove him back to the dealership, and we did the swap paperwork.

As I drove the car away, I continued to notice all sorts of cool stuff that had been done. The thief had taken the stereo, but had replaced it with one that was between the front seats. The CD player, tape desk, controls, equalizer, everything was on the driver's right, and conveniently located so that he didn't have to scoot forward to reach the stereo. The dashboard had been replaced: there was no spot for the old stereo anymore, just a slick new dashboard console that offered more leg room underneath. In the back, the passenger seats had the edges cut away, and in the place of where the fabric used to be were thin tower speakers. This provided the car with much better sound than it had before.

I tested the car's speed. It had improved since I drove it last, but it wasn't as good as the Mustang. I'm sure that if I wanted that, I could modify the engine to do just that, but for now, I was just fine with a more economical car.

As I drove to Christendom, enjoying the old made new, I woke up...

Friday, August 25, 2006

Inside a video game

I don't know what I did yesterday that made me dream of this at all. I worked out for about an hour and-a-half, I said my prayers, I put music into Cakewalk, and I watched a couple Homestar Runner clips. My evening menu consisted of two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and a small dish of strawberry yogurt. If you can figure out how I got this from all that, be my guest...

Also, a person that I'm sure everyone here knows shows up later. I mean absolutely no offense to this person. Confused? Keep reading...

To start off with, I was playing an old video game, Doom II. I've played the game enough to know most of the levels quite well. The odd thing was that the game looked a lot better than it had ever looked before. I looked around in the game. Everything looked very realistic. I looked down. I saw my feet, and a very sweet gun. I looked back up, surprised, because in Doom II, you never see your feet, and you only see the barrel of your gun. It suddenly hit me: I wasn't playing it. I was the main character! (Justin or Jonathan, are you reading this?) I was holding an old--but still very sweet--rocket launcher, and I was hunting aliens and demons. Sweet. Bring it on!

The nice thing about being in a video game and realizing that it's a video game is that you have a lot more control that you would normally think. It's rather like when you are dreaming but then you realize it's a dream. You can take full control of the dream, by either letting things go as they are, or by simply altering the whole thing.

I began running, something you normally can't do with nine fully-loaded weapons on you, and a backpack containing extra ammo for all of them. If you've ever played Doom II, you know that these aren't just various pistols. Your starting weapon is a pistol, but if you look hard enough, you'll find a chain saw at the very beginning. (If you don't, there's always your fists...) The next weapon is a single-barrel shotgun, followed by a double-barrel shotgun (two separate weapons, and you get to keep both), a chaingun (or a gatlin' gun, depending upon what you what to call it), a rocket launcher, a plasma gun, and a BFG9000 (which takes the ammo of the plasma cannon, using 80 rounds per shot, and dealing sick amounts of damage to everything in the room). And I had the rocket launcher out, loaded and ready to go. What's funny about this is that my personal favorite was the plasma gun, even over the BFG9000...

Anyway, so I went sprinting along this rather familiar looking outdoors area, looking for something evil to blow up. But everywhere I went, there was nothing. It was as though I had already completed the level, but I was missing one key. I do that all the time. I'll just miss one thing in a level, and then after I've killed off everything, I'll run around and pick up all the ammo I missed, while I hunt (and hunt and hunt) for the one hidden key. I kept running around, but there was nothing...

I finally went into a building. There were bodies of the evil ones everywhere -- too bad I missed all the fun. I heard something coming from one of the rooms though, and I readied my launcher. I opened the door, and there was a room full of barons of hell and hell knights. They were all facing away from me. In their midst was a large cyberdemon, who was facing me. In the first instant, it looked like the smaller demons were taking orders from the cyberdemon. Suddenly the cyberdemon, seeing me, opened fire. He hit one of the barons of hell, who did not take kindly to it. The rocket splash damage also hit other demons, who had the same reaction. They started firing their energy balls upon the cyberdemon. I saw a way for this to get ugly. I ran back and forth behind the group. In an attempt to shoot me, the cyberdemon hit more of these barons and knights, causing them all to turn against him. I quickly exited the room, just in case any of them noticed me, and also, to avoid any potential damage.

This part of the dream is one room of an actual level from Doom II.

The rocket fire slowly subsided, and the room became silent with one last explosion. I couldn't tell who had survived from the sounds. When I opened the door to investigate, I saw two barons of hell and a hell knight still alive. Their comrades were all dead. The remaining three turned on me. I fired off a single rocket at them, knocking back the hell knight. Then I realized the power I might have in the game. I put away the rocket launcher and prepared to see what I could do.

As anticipated, the fire didn't stop. The three beings launched their energy balls at me. I caught all three of the energy balls and just held them for a second or two. The beings looked at me in utter disbelief -- I guess no one has ever done that before. They fired off another volley, and I caught them as well. I merged all the energy into one large one, but before I could launch it at them, they had fired off another volley. I knew I could catch the energy, but what else could I do? As the energy approached, I swung my fist, effectively reflecting them all back to their originators. Frustrated, they charged me. I launched the energy ball at them. The force of the energy that I had packed was more powerful then a rocket, and actually blasted them through a wall into the next room. Quite satisfied with my abilities, I sauntered on through the new hole...

...into an office. At the desk sat two burly men, and Therese O. The men were cheesed off, and Therese just sat there letting them rant. From their rantings, it was clear that the two men were the barons, and that Therese had been the knight. In spite of the fact that the knights are inferior to the barons, it was also clear that she was their leader. While they were raving, she was simply sitting behind the desk in the executive chair. It was clear that she was not happy with the situation either, but it was done, and there was nothing that she could do about it.

One of the men came up to me, yelling something. I just stood there was a slight smirk on my face and let him rant. It was about all he could do anyway. As he walked back to the table, I actually began to feel a little sorry for them. The way that the guys were acting, it was as though they had never been defeated, and this was their first taste of something that wasn't victory.

The same guy suddenly spun around and launched a fireball at me. I had been half-expecting it, but wasn't really prepared at this close range. Still, I noticed it, and without moving a muscle, I stopped the fireball dead in its tracks. I sent the fireball back at the guy, but it was only powerful enough to forcibly make him sit down. He started to cry.

I looked at him in disbelief. A baron of hell was crying. His crying started up the other one. I could only think of one response, and it was sarcastic:

"What, do you guys need a hug?"

"Yes," was their response, also taking me by surprise.

Hopefully, I could surprise them all back, so I geve the first one a hug. He cried on my shoulder like a little kid. I've never felt so uncomfortable in my whole life. I shouldn't say that, because the next two were just as awkward. The other guy got up and made a group hug effort, so I offered my other arm to him. The same thing happened. I wondered to myself, "Why did I say yes? These guys ... geez!" When they were finally done, they returned to their seats, sniffling a little. I looked at Therese, who looked rather embarassed by her comrades' behavior. I asked her the same question. The guys piped up, "He's a great hugger!" (Like I said, uncomfortable, but it gets worse.) She said sure, she'll take one. So I hugged her. Her response?

"Eh, he's not that good..."

Feeling extremely awkward, my dream suddenly twisted out of that into a completely different spin. Sadly, I don't remember the second half of the dream. The second half had almost nothing to do with the first half, and I remember waking up feeling a whole lot better than I did when my dream jumped tracks. I just can't remember. I guess I'll have to end on the awkward note and see if it will come back to me...

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Uh ... you're what?

I had a very wierd dream last night. There aren't too many details in it, so this should be a pretty quick read...

I was wandering around a mall which I didn't know. I don't know what I was looking for. Suddenly, I stumbled across a very familiar looking face among many others. It was Lizzie, surrounded by a bunch of people I didn't know. She was in a wedding dress, and the men around her were dressed in morning coats and suits. She saw me looking at her with a funny look on my face, and she came running out.

Her: "Anthony! Guess what?"
Me: "No, don't tell me."
Her: "Yes!" And she flashed her wedding band at me, with her engagement ring right behind it.
Me: "You're married. Why are you getting married?"
Her: "Duh! You get married after you've been engaged!"
Me: "I never knew you were engaged! How did this little fact escape the subject of conversation?"
Her: "Oh, you knew."
Me: "No, really, I didn't."
Her: "Sure you did!"
Me: "Lizzie, I would not be reacting like this if I had known you were engaged."
Her: "Well, it doesn't matter. Come celebrate with us!"

And at this point I looked at the crowd. All the men present were aged 45 and over. I looked carefully for the groom. Shocked, I did a double-take, and then for safety reasons, I looked over them all very thoroughly again. Her husband was a gray-haired man, rather on the portly side. You could tell he was very well off by the way that he carried himself.

Me: "Lizzie, how old is your husband?"
Her: "What difference does that make?"
Me: "He's what, 50?"
Her: "Close. He's a bit older."
Me: "Why are you marrying him?"
Her: "Why would anyone marry anyone else?"
I gave her a look.
Her: "Yeah, he is well off, but that's not the main reason!"

I forget what I said at this point, but it was along the lines of the fact that I couldn't celebrate with her, because something about the whole thing seemed really wierd. Of course, Lizzie did not like that answer, and she went away mad at me. I felt awful for saying whatever it was I said and for making her mad, but I couldn't go against my feelings in this matter.

Anyway, she went inside one of the restaraunts in this mall, followed by her entourage. I followed her at a distance. There were no Christendom people at all, nor was her family there. The entire crowd consisted of people about the age of the groomsmen. Some were married, some weren't. It looked like all the attendees were all on the guy's side.

I began to feel extremely uneasy about the whole thing. Right about then, I woke up...

Thursday, July 20, 2006

The mountain

I was in a place that I'd seen before in a previous dream. I don't remember what happened in the previous dream, but I remember that I had gotten a good idea of the way the place was laid out. As best as I can figure, I was driving a lot in my last dream about this place.

If I had the skills, I would draw you a map of this place. Before anyone asks, yes, I remember it, and, no, I'm not making it up.

In this dream, I was driving my dad's old Ford Bronco around (the same one I wreaked the second time I drove it). I was driving it along the road towards a large mountain.

The road I was on wound around through trees and smaller hills, but you could see this mountain over it. This one mountain was part of a mountain range. The road was positioned in such a way that from the angle that I was coming at, you couldn't really see the mountain range, you only saw what you thought was one huge mountain.

Well, as I got nearer, and the road continued to wind, the other mountains in the range became much more apparent. The roads on the mountain itself did not rest immediately on the mountain, either. They were all supported by large posts, which then rested on the mountain. (Think of a traffic interchange between two major highways. You know those bridges that go over the highways that allow travelers to get from one highway to another? Think of supports like that.)

I was going on a tour of the inside of the mountain. When I drove inside, I met with a number of people there all going on this same tour. Since this mountain was so large, the idea was the everyone would drive around in their vehicles and tune their radios to an AM frequency, so that they could hear the tour announcer. That's exactly what I did. I tuned my radio to the AM frequency, and we followed the tour guide.

There was a lot of what you would expect in a mountain, but there was one thing you would not expect. Inside this mountain was the world's largest natural deep fat frier. You can't really imagine how big this was. This was the bulk of the tour, showing off this deep fat frier.

The mountain was, in fact, completely natural. No man had built it. A mining expedition had discovered it, and, in discovering it, had discovered one of the products of the mountain, namely something you would cook in a deep fat frier: potato chips. As the original mining expedition was going, after digging a tunnel into the mountain, they discovered a natural cavern. This natural cavern led to another room, and this room was filled with new, crispy, golden potato chips. The miners all tried one, and sure enough they were real -- it wasn't a mirage of anything. They continued exploring in the mountain, and they discovered the an immense pool of golden liquid. It was cool, so they went to investigate. They discovered that it was 100% pure, and after monitoring it for some time, discovered what it did. Needless to say, it became a tourist attraction like no one has ever seen before.
--End "History"--

As the tour continued on past this immense lake (you're probably still not imagining a deep fat frier lake big enough), we were shown the products of this mountain. At that moment, the lake was producing some sort of cheesy cracker--along the lines of the Ritz cracker, but cheesy instead of buttery. I was very interested, because I'm a big fan of stuff like this. They were offering samples of what the mountain makes, so I gladly took some. Imagine the best cheesy cracker you've ever had, then think of ways to improve on it. That's how good this was.

I left quite happy and also intrigued as to how this thing came to be. As I drove away, there was a slight rumble. I figured it was the mountain settling, or perhaps beginning to prepare another batch.

As I drove out of the mountain, a separate mountain in the chain suddenly erupted. It was spouting the cheesy goodness that I had just praised. The problem was the this yumminess was wiping out everything in its path, exactly like lava. I watched in horrored fascination as a forest was quickly buried.

My mind quickly flew back to my family living on the other side of the range. I pulled a quick U-turn in the truck and sped out of there as quickly as I could, but unfortunately, it was not quickly enough. The mountain that I had just been in joined in the fray immediately in front of me. I was caught up in the wave of crackers and swept away.

The next thing I knew, I was alone. The eruption had happened, and I was still alive. The truck still ran, but it had sustained some body damage. I got out of the truck and looked around. Trees were snapped in half, forests were partially flattened. I looked where my family's house would have been, and it was gone. There was hardly any sign of life anywhere, aside from a few birds. Since there was nothing left here, I decided to hunt around for other possible survivors.

My house was gone. The good thing was that there were no bodies, so I had hope that they had all gotten away in time. There was no sign of tracks, but then again, should there be? I think not. It would be odd indeed of forests were wiped out and tracks were left...

I continued searched, and I found a refugee hideout in Best Buy. Or what I thought was a hideout. It was actually no hideout. It was business as usual at Best Buy. They were having a clearance sale, and stragglers from the wreck outside were coming inside to spend possibly their last dollar on cool new toys for themselves. Anywhere from video games to laptops to appliances: it was all on sale. I recognized several employees: Big Brad, Zack R., and a few others who I knew in passing. They didn't recognize me off hand. I applied for a job there -- I had to make money to begin rebuilding, right?

I still had my uniform, so I threw it on, and began working. For some reason, there were a lot of customers who all needed help, but aside from a select few, the employees were all too busy chatting with each other to help out any of the customers. This affected me very oddly -- it really disturbed me that these people were spending their last bit of money on useless technology that would not help them in rebuilding, which they couldn't even use anyway, because of the lack of electricity. I wept for them inside, but I did nothing to stop them, because this is what they wanted to do.

The dream finished up with me being done with closing the store down after a short day, getting back out to my truck, and seeing a very sorrowful sight. All the people who had just made these purchases were barely alive enough to use them. They did not have money for the necessities of life, and were starving. It was very apocalyptic...

Sunday, July 16, 2006


I got word that Dad was back home. Shocked, I flew home, and sure enough he was. He was sitting at the dining room table, looking more-or-less normal as anything. He was a lot bigger than the last time I saw him, and a lot stronger. He had more energy, and he breathed a lot easier. I did do a double-take when I saw him though, but it wasn't because of all that.

He had hair. His receding hairline was still present, but he had enough hair to do a flat-top. Keep in mind that, aside from photographs, Dad with hair is something I have never seen before.

His congestive heart failure was completely gone. His need for medication was out the window. He did have to use a cane, and that was simply because he had been dead long enough that he was still stiff, but even that was going away.

The next thing I remember, Dad and I were walking towards Town East Mall (a local shopping mall in Mesquite). I had two obvious questions welling up inside of me, but, out of respect, and because I didn't want to sound like some sort of freak-o medium, I held off. When I couldn't take it anymore, I asked the first one.

I asked him if he could tell me anything from beyond the grave. What was death like? Had he gone to heaven? If so, why did he come back (not to sound cruel, but I imagine that heaven is a lot better than earth)? What was judgment like?

One thing that I remember from all the way back when I was really young: I've always been afraid of Dad. He was the punisher of the family, the really strict one. Up until I went to college, I was always afraid of him, and even when I came back from college, he had a very commanding presence, one that I always feared.

In retrospect, up until I went to college, I never really knew how much Dad loved me, or how much I returned that love. Nothing changed before I went to college, during my time at Christendom, nor post-graduation. He was always Dad. I just began to take notice of the fact that Dad was strict because he loved me, instead of being strict just for the sake of it.

He looked at me with his normal look. In my youth, I would have been scared that I had said something wrong. Now I didn't see anything like that. He told me very plainly that he will not reveal to me what is not my place to know. When I die is when I will find out what death is like, what judgment is like, and then where I will go.

He also told me that I'm not doing what I need to do. What it is I need to do, he didn't say.

The third thing he told me was a bit of a kicker: Stop drinking soda. It'll kill you.

I laughed out loud at the third one. Although I didn't doubt it, I was a bit taken aback by the fact that it was one of the things that he had to tell me.

My second question was this: How is it that he came back to life and got out of his casket? "Well, son, you see, there are motion sensors and life sensors within any coffin. Mine was equipped with them as well. As soon as I started moving, the alert was sent out, and the casket was brought back up in less time than I had to realize my situation and start panicking." I was surprised by this answer, because I didn't see any sensors, or anything else that could do such a job, and I did get a decently good look at the casket. I was about to ask him to get into the scientific details of how they could place a sensor inside a coffin like that, and then get it to transmit a signal through that much earth, but then I woke up.

I'm such a geek, even in my dreams...

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

"Superhero" is a career option...

...or at least, that's what my subconscious thinks. This was a very odd dream, and it's doesn't make sense, but part of it was cool, anyway...

The first part: I was at Mass (Mass of Paul VI), sitting front and center with a large group of people. The priest announced the Kiss of Peace, and while everyone else in the church shook hands and made a big commotion, the large group of us did it the more-or-less traditional way: my hands went to the shoulders of the person next to me, his hands went under my elbows, we bowed towards each other. "Pax tecum. Et cum spiritu tuo." After doing that to the person on both the left and the right, we faced front again. Quick, clean, smooth, done. We weren't diving over pews to shake hands with people, unlike the rest of the people in the church.

The next thing that I recall, this same group I was with at Mass were all in a very large field. The part we were in was wide open. I looked around, and some of us were dressed oddly. Very oddly. Some people had tights, some people had masks, some people had capes, etc. Others, including me, were dressed in their normal attire to blend in.

Now, I don't know how this part follows. If you hadn't noticed, we were all superheroes. I don't know if our powers came from the Mass (which is a really cool thought), or if because we had our powers, we had to show the common folk how to behave at Mass. Anyway...

In any case, we were all gathered to have a showdown with the local bad guy. It was obvious that very few of us had any idea how best to use our powers. Some were showing off, some were unsure of themselves, few were acting normal.

The local bad guy was on top of a hill. He had done something which had made him the bad guy. For all I know, he could have leveled a city, or he might have simply bought an SUV and the green peace people called him a murderer. In any case, he challenged us.

"Since you are all obviously very green with your powers, I'll give you a fighting chance. I'll give you 15 seconds. You have until then to hide wherever you can. If I find and catch you -- and I'll find and catch every single one of you -- you're out of commission. Agreed?" Somehow or another, we got the idea that we wouldn't want to go up against him in a full-scale assault, so we all agreed.

(Yes, it was superhero hide-and-seek.)
(I can hear you laughing. Shut up.)

We agreed by splitting up in every possible direction. Some people went into the trees, some turned invisible, some burrowed underground. I looked at the LBG. He wasn't looking away. He was watching us as we all hid. Well, he is the local bad guy...

I took off running. I sped up as fast as I could go (which is a lot faster than I can run in real life -- even faster than TJ), and then thought that it would be better if he could see where I was going, so I took off flying. I looked down to see where everyone was going. I put my hands out under me to give fives as I passed by. Everyone dodged, thinking I was going to hit them. Elizabeth McG. was up ahead. She turned around and held her hand out. I dipped low enough and gave her five as I zipped by.

At this point, I really took off. I didn't want LBG to watch me too easily. My plan was to get past a hill at the ten second mark (which I was in no danger of missing), and then use all my speed to hide in a completely different direction. Genius, huh? Well, just after giving Liz a five and really turning up the juice, I woke up. Mom had walked into the room and reminded me that I had wanted to get up early to get some work done today...

Thursday, June 08, 2006

Don't ask...

Last nights dream wasn't coherent, wasn't based on much ... it was just weird...

From what I remember, I was in a house (or a separate room in a restaurant), and I was with some friends. We were all eating Oriental food. Oddly enough, I was using chopsticks without stumbling all over myself, or anything. For some reason, I was having the hardest time trying to get this food down! It wasn't gross, but everyone else was beating me. I don't remember who was there, but they were looking at me like I was weird, because they were finishing up first. I was about half done with my box of food when they were picking out the last grains of rice -- that's how far behind I was.

Well, we were all together, and I was still hungry, so they all left to check this place out, and I concentrated on just trying to finish all of it. I wasn't getting full, it just seemed like I wasn't able to get much in the chopsticks at all.

Well, as I slowly worked my way through the food, there was long, thin, pink thing, about as wide as one of my fingers. I didn't know what it was. I simply couldn't tell. I poked at it, hoping to discover what kind of creature it was. It suddenly dawned on me where I had seen one of those before: a larger one was inside my own mouth. You got it, a tongue.

I stared in disbelief. I've never had a tongue in any of the Chinese, Japanese, Thai, or any other Oriental food that I've ever had before. I was stunned. What should I do? Should I ignore it, pretend I never saw it, eat around it, and throw it away? But that's wasting food, and I am not known for doing that. Many people would eat it without thinking twice. In fact, I'm sure that in some places, it's a delicacy.

Well then, should I eat it?

Yuck. No way.

But why not? I've eaten practically everything else in my life that's been set before me. I do claim to be entirely not picky--especially since I can't cook, I have no room to complain.

But a tongue? Blah!

Well, I poked at it once more. It was thoroughly cooked and rather soft. I picked it up, and it looked like it had simply been cut up.

After grossing myself out, I decided to not eat it. Very decidedly, I put it into a corner of the box, well away from the rest of the food.

The fried rice was actually quite good. It was easily some of the best that I've ever had. Suddenly I realized that I was almost done with the box. I hurried to try to finish it up, because I wanted to see what was inside this restaurant.

I took a bite, and chewed. It was a different texture and a slightly different taste. It was very soft, but somehow slightly rubbery. What I was tasting was slightly more bland than the fried rice, but it was good in its own way. I froze in horror and looked in the box. No, I hadn't accidentally eaten that piece of tongue. Then what in the world...?

I had to inspect what I had just put in my mouth. There was another piece of the tongue, smaller than the major piece, and I had just eaten it. A wave of revulsion ran through me, and then I checked myself. Why was I disgusted? It wasn't all that bad...

I reconsidered my original idea, and picked up the piece of tongue in the corner. I looked closely at it. I don't know what I expected to see. Maybe a message saying, "Don't eat this"? Whatever it was, all I could see is that it was simply a tongue. I braced myself and ate it.

Not bad. It was as I described before, but without all the fried rice, it was easier to tell what it tasted like by itself. It was chewy on the outside, but rather soft on the inside, not unlike taffy with a cream filled center. However, it was a much softer "chewy" than anything.

I can't even describe the taste. How would you describe the taste of your own tongue? You can't can you? Well, I guess that my dream was telling me that all tongues tasted like my own...

In any event, I finally got done with that. The box was empty. I got up to look around the place, and maybe catch up with my friends. As I walk out of the room, I see the next room has some targets in it. Curious, I walk in.

As soon as I clear the door, a man hands me a pump action shotgun.


Of course, you know that I scoured the internet for pictures and names of shotguns. The closest that I could find was the Navy A Remington 870 Wingmaster 12-gauge shotgun. I tried to post a picture of one here, but it wouldn't work for some reason... Anyway, if you're that interested, just search for the name of the gun in quotes: "Navy A Remington 870 Wingmaster 12-gauge shotgun". You'll find the picture, and it should be the first link you get.


I take the gun, and it's surprisingly light. It was almost amazing at how light it was. Well, I had six rounds, so, with much gusto, I strode over to the center of the space where I was supposed to stand, and held the gun up. After firing one round, I realized that this really was as easy as the movies made it look. I tossed the gun from my right hand to my left hand. My left hand grabbed the pump, and I did a one handed pump, and the gun was ready to go again. I tossed the gun up with my left hand, and caught it with my right hand exactly where it was supposed to be, spun 360 on my heel while lowering myself to floor, and fired without aiming. I was just slightly off bulls-eye, but what do you expect for a rookie like me? Well, I continued doing stuff like that and went through five shells quickly. On the sixth one, I decided to break the rules and pretend to be Neo, so I did a one-handed cart-wheel on my right hand, and while I was perfectly upside down, I fired again (left handed) and hit bulls-eye.

Feeling quite proud of myself, I went back to the guy to get another six shells, which he gave me. I looked at my target: it was practically non-existent anymore. At this point, it was obvious that the wall behind it was drywall, because it was missing a huge chuck of it, and white powder was everywhere. As I reloaded the gun, the man motioned to the door, as though telling me to go out and shoot things. I gladly accepted, because I knew that I would have to save innocent lives from an evil terrorist dictator who has set himself up as the ruler of the land.

Six shells wasn't going to get me too far, so I got a couple more...

As I walk out the door, the stereotypical sunglasses go on, and I stand in a menacing pose outside the door. The first door opens, and I do my best to look intimidating.

Airborne drywall powder comes pouring out of the room, and a young man completely covered in it comes out, choking from the sheer volume of dust. I look at him, wondering if it would be my first opponent.

Nope. It's Alex Y. (a fellow Christendom alum, who was from the basement my senior year, and graduated class of '05). He looks at me in sheer disbelief, and says, "What in the world do you think you're doing? You just shot out that wall!"

Not having a good answer for him, I woke up...

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

"Amusement park" in a building in a city

I was walking down the street of a city. This city was laid out rather like Washington, D.C., but there were a lot more high-rises there. It was more like walking down the streets of NYC or downtown Dallas. The one major difference was that the buildings were all painted and colorful.

Another difference: all these high-rises were connected to each other several stories up. You could go into one building, go up to the 10th floor (that number sounds good), and you could then walk from building to building. This was laid out to replicate the sidewalks and crosswalks in this city.

If you want to see a very close spot on the map, the dream was partially inspired by this point: Go to http://maps.google.com and search for "Constitution Ave NW & 6th St NW, Washington, DC 20004". The only major difference is that right were Constitution meets Pennsylvania directly east from that point, picture a huge, steep hill right there, and the aforementioned connected high-rises all over the place.

Anyway, I was walking with a group of about eight other guys. We were all dressed in slacks, shirts and ties, and we were just walking down the street. Oddly enough, I only knew one guy in the group: Dominic C., from Texas. There were a couple Christendom guys in the group, but I only know them by sight, and not by name.

We were walking mostly together, east-bound along this road, through crowds of men and women dressed in suits and smart dresses (respectively). I suddenly realized that not everyone in this group was actually walking. Some of these people had roller shoes. You know what I mean -- the ones with the wheel in the heel. But I don't mean sneakers. I mean normal dress shoes. Anywhere from $1000's snake-skinned shoes to the shiny military style to the $19.99 Wal-Mart specials. It was very interesting seeing these business people just scooting along on their heels.

Up ahead, there was a small group of men supporting a much older man. He looked to be in his sixties, and the men supporting him were in their thirties to forties. It was obvious that he had never scooted like this before. He seemed to be getting the hang of it, but just like everyone else who has never skated before, he was grabbing onto them and other things for support. He did not have roller shoes. He had gotten roller skates to get used to the feeling first. It looked like he had gotten the cheapest kind on the market, too. They were pink, and had little flowers all over them -- obviously, a little girl's skate. But instead of having the normal rollerskate look, the axles were built into the sole of the shoe, putting the four wheels on the side of the shoe, instead of underneath them. The entire thing was plastic, so it was definitely not a quality ride...

As we continued walking, we approached this very large hill. The sidewalks on this hill were absolutely covered with these skaters. In fact, it seems that at the top of the hill, they disregarded the fact that they were professional men and women. They hopped onto their wheels at the top of the hill, and zoomed in and out of all the people who were just walking. They even had assistance in getting that extra boost of speed at the top of the hill. They would all help each other out by providing a shove to the person up on the top to help them get going as fast as they could. There was quite a line for it, too. I'm not sure if there was a designated pusher, or if the people in the line would just push the man or woman in front of them, and then be pushed in turn by the person behind them.

In any event, anyone and everyone who had wheels was being pushed. This included an old man in a wheelchair. He was minding his own business, when all of a sudden, someone behind him gave him a huge shove and sent him tearing down the hill. In a fright, he doubled over in his seat and covered up his head. I saw it all, and hurried to get to the old man. I stopped directly in his path, and slowed his wheelchair down to a stop. I asked him if he was all right, but he didn't move. He finally uncurled, and started slowly wheeling himself away. I imagined that he was too shocked to speak, and I just let him go. As he uncurled himself a got a look at him: if you've been to Old St. Mary's, he was the bald old African American man who sits in the back of the church. He is usually dressed in brown, and has a brown backpack with him. He also wears a white air filter face mask.

In any case, the guys and I turned north. We headed along this road towards our destination. You recall the title of this post? Well, there were three Six Flags in the city, they were all within a few blocks of each other along this road, and they were all contained within their individual skyscrapers. We were headed to a place called "Six Flags: Enigma", the headquarters of all Six Flags.

We arrived there and went inside. But we had entered the wrong Six Flags. No problem -- they had a subway system as well that connected the buildings, so they put us in a car and shot us towards Six Flags: Enigma. When we arrives, we saw that the employees were all dressed in lab coats, but they greeted us like any ordinary Six Flags employees. As we walked through the first set of doors, they warned us that weird things would happen inside.

And was it ever true! We all started slowly changing shape into animals -- de-evolving if you will. One of us turned into a giant rat. Another changed into a wolf. I turned into a Tyrannosaurus Rex. We were all still perfectly rational, and we all recognized each other. It was as though this is what we had always been.

As we left, we walked outside and saw that we weren't the only ones to have visited this place. There were a lot of other animals walking around outside, mingling and interacting with everyone else. The rat and I gave each other looks of approval, and went out to join the crowd.

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

At the Opera

Last night, I dreamed that I attended an open-casting call for an opera. Having never sung in an opera before, I was quite nervous.

I got there, and there was a small group of people present. There was a woman and a man who seemed to be in charge, because they were doing all the talking, so I just sat and listened to them. They soon started passing out scripts. I opened it, and it was an opera that I had never seen before (no big surprise there). I tried to figure out the part in my head, but it was all hand-written and there were four flats. It would take me a few minutes to figure out the key, and from then, I had to figure out the rest of it.

Now, I know that there are some of you reading this who will know automatically what key four flats is in. I can usually figure it out (A-flat?), but I don't know it off the top of my head...

In any event, the opera had an interesting plot to it. As I remember, it was divided up into five scenes, but I don't remember for sure about all of them. The main part of the opera was that it was about a woman who was very close to her sixties. Her eldest was a son about close to forty years old, and her youngest was a son who was about twenty-five. The name of the youngest was Marius -- sound familiar?

The woman missed having kids around. Most of her children were married, so she had grandchildren, but she wanted another of her own. The opera was based on her struggle between being content with what she had (a number of well-brought-up sons and daughters and their grandchildren), or attempting to get another child of her own, whether through natural means or adoption. I never actually figured out her motives, whether she feels that the number she provided to the world was insignificant or insufficient, or whether she was lonely without little kids around, but in any case, that was the opera.

I got the role of Marius. Marius was one of the bigger characters in the opera, not as big as his mother, but considering that he had older brothers and sisters, and the father was also involved. In it, Marius was doing his best to convince his mother that she was blessed to have so many children and grandchildren, and that she needed to take care of herself and her husband, and not try to get more children. The rest of the family was surprised at her desire, as well, and expressed similar concerns.

I was a bit weirded out by the content of the opera, as you can imagine, but at the same time, I was really fascinated that an opera was being performed that was saying good things about having big families, instead of promoting the one-and-a-half children families as being ideal.

At the same time, the director was making the poor mother be portrayed as being a bit on the crazy side. Why? I have no idea...


After spending a few minutes flipping through the opera, I wasn't too scared of the role, so I asked them what I needed to do. They asked me if I had my tuxedo. Sure enough, I did. I ran into a back room, changed into it, and came out. They gave me a once-over, and said that I looked all right. By this point, everyone else had changed into their tuxedos and evening gowns, respectively. Almost everyone else had tuxes with tails and white gloves, so I was a bit ... underdressed. Then I remembered I had white gloves, so I whipped them out. In any event, I passed inspection, and we sat down again.

They started giving instructions: "When the crowds get here, they'll want to see a good show, so act the way you learned to, ..." etc. I raised my hand.

"Excuse me, um, crowds?"

"Yes. We're performing this tonight," said the lady.

My eyes bugged out.

"PERFORMING? Um, wait, wait, wait... I'm here for an audition, not for a performance."

"Yeah, I figured as much. That's the same reason I came, too," she replied rather nonchalantly.

My thoughts jumped ahead to the performance. Based on what they were describing, it would be a full house. We would have the sheet music in front of us, so that was a good thing. The performance would be done with those in the scene standing in a row, more like a singing concert than an opera. Everyone else had an operatically trained voice. Not me. I had no vocal training at all, so I would be the odd man out.

I pointed this fact out to the lady, and she just shrugged. I asked about practice, because I'd never seen the music before. She didn't pay attention. I took the music to the back and began to figure it out. After a few minutes, I was switching keys like nobody's business, and, since I do not have perfect pitch, I was rather stuck with trying to figure out the key and praying that I was close...

It suddenly hit me that I had to use the restroom...

And that's how I woke up...

I tried to finish the dream, but I couldn't, so I just got up instead...

Sunday, April 23, 2006

Workin' in D.C.

Last night, I dreamed that I had gone to work in D.C. I don't remember what my job was, or where it was, but I was going to it. As I recall, I was leaving work for the day, and who should I see but Paul P. As usual, he was dressed to impress with his feathered hat, his tweed suit, and his overcoat. I went up to him and asked him where he worked. He told me, and I realized that where he worked wasn't too far away from where I worked. I offered to share a ride with him in, because he was driving his truck in every day from Front Royal, and I was driving the Acura. He agreed, and we parted ways.

There was something else cool about this dream, but I really don't remember...

Friday, April 21, 2006

Bits and pieces of a funpark dream

I had this very odd dream. I don't remember all of it, but it went something along these lines...

I was a Russian intern living in a well-furnished attic of someone's house. This someone had a daughter who I thought was pretty, and was kind of interested in. The one scene that I distinctly remember from that part of the dream is that we were both upstairs watching television -- a sitcom, if I recall, but not a regular sitcom: this one had an announcer.

As a Russian intern, I was watching me (the real me, not a Russian intern) on TV.

I switches roles. I became the "real me" that was on television. I remember going to a theme park, like King's Dominion or Six Flags. After having this dream, I remember dreaming about this place before.

The last time I dreamed about it, I was the only guest left in the amusement park. The employees were trying to shut everything down, but they were trying to cater to me as well. The ride that pops into my head is the swinging pirate ship. The employees were cleaning the deck and getting it all locked up when I suddenly walked up, just to see what they were doing. They asked me if I wanted to ride it. I saw they were cleaning it and shutting it down, so I said, "No, that's ok." But they began powering it back up and unlocking everything, insisting that I ride it: "Please, ride it! You'll love it!" I said, "I know. I've ridden it before. Besides, you guys are shutting down for the evening. I only came over here to see what was going on." They continued getting everything powered up, and continued pressuring me, "You gotta ride it. Please! You'll love it!" I declined again and turned to leave, and right then, I woke up.

In this dream, Alex S. and I were on our way to the park. Alex, being the sensible one, looked at his watch.

"Geez, Anthony! They'll close in an hour! We probably shouldn't go."

I insisted that I was going to go, whether he did or not. He thought twice about it, and said that he wasn't going. He's want to ride a lot of the rides, and one hour wasn't enough time. It made sense, but I still wanted to go. I dropped him off at his home (which oddly looked like the attic), and continued on to the park.

David H. and Goeff T. were in line to get into the park. I joined the line, and then noticed that I was in the wrong line...

I got out of line, and went to a different line, the one marked entrance. The entrance line crossed over the other line that I had been a part of, forming a cross intersection. The entrance line had one other person in it, David. Geoff had already gone through the entrance and was in the park. (David had been in the park most of the day, but he had left for a while and had just come back.) David turned to me and said that the entrance to the park was his favorite part. I looked at him funny, and understandably so. He explained that the entrance to the park was the qualifying round. If you could make it through the entrance "test", you were admitted into the park. Those who didn't make it through the test had to stand in the other line.

I looked at the lines. On the other side of the entrance gates was a series of slides. Most of them were relatively steep. In order to make it in, you had to climb up the slides. This would put you a good 100 feet above where the entrance level was.

Dying of curiosity, I looked at the other line. The other line also had a series of slides, but these slides went down. Why wouldn't you want to take these slides? It would be easier! The problem was that these slides took you away from the park, and spilled you onto the highway. You can imagine what that was like. There were a lot of people in that line...

I went into the entrance, wondering if I should even bother or just turn around and leave. I looked at the series of slides, and I saw Geoff scrambling up one of them like there was nothing easier in the world. David, also, had run away and was going up a different slide. As I looked closely, these slides were very polished, and very slick. If you slipped, you'd go all the way down to the bottom...

The thought, "GIVE UP!" kept running though my head...

The sitcom voices droned on, and I got a third-person view of me as the Russian intern watching me faced with this small dilemma. The intern turned to the girl he was sitting with, and asked her what she thought would happen. She looked a him, and said that there was only one way to find out. They both turned back to the television...

But in that second of distraction, they missed it. I was already in the park. Geoff and David had run far ahead and were in their respective rides. As I passed by the pirate ship again, the same guys were there, still asking me to ride it.

Outside the television, once again I assumed the role of the Russian intern, and I got up to leave. Alex suddenly poked his head into the room and asked if there was anything anyone needed, because he was going to the store. No wonder the attic looked familiar...

I remember this dream continuing for a while, but I don't remember what else was said or done. All I really remember was that the girl and I got into a discussion over a current event or something...

Friday, March 31, 2006

Freaky dreams

I've been having this weird semi-recurring dream lately. It's even kind of a nightmare...

I went back to Christendom, as is my usual weekend fare. But the campus has changed. The only thing consistent in the dreams that has changed is that the layout of the campus has changed, and gotten much more expansive with more trees, more hills, more valleys, and bigger buildings.

The last time I had this dream, the weather was beautiful. The hills were so radiantly green, and the sky was as blue as blue could be, with a couple pure white clouds in the sky. Such a day couldn't be enjoyed by oneself, so I went around looking for people. No one was around. None of the guys were in their dorms, and none of the girls seemed to be there. Any. Not even people that I didn't know. The place was there, people's stuff was there -- but there was not a soul on campus. It looked like they were all there, somewhere, but I couldn't figure out where. It looked like all the cars and all the vans were there. Where could they be?

Had the rapture happened?

I don't know. I woke up shortly after giving up the search and lying down on a huge green hill to wait for them to show up...

This time, I started off by going to the gym. The gym was much nicer than the current one. It had three levels, an indoor swimming pool, indoor tennis courts, racquetball courts, indoor basketball courts, enormous weight room, a track, showers, saunas--you name it, the gym had it. A young man was giving me a tour, saying (essentially), "Look at how great we are." He was about 18, Mexican, and had a fluffy, white, stereotypical-gym towel draped over his shoulder. Mike P. went jogging by as we were exploring the lower level. We went into the racquetball courts, and he showed me what they could be used for: in one, there was a group therapy session. In another, Dr. Poterack was conducting Madrigals. In another, a group of students (weird looking students -- weird: think of me, and you'll have an idea of what they look like) were in there smoking all sorts of stuff, from cigarettes to weed to pot. As he saw people, he would go up to them, say their name Italian style ("TONYYYYY!!" for instance), and they'd exchange the brief guy hug (right handshake, bringing the right shoulder in to the chest of the other, pat the other guy on the back twice), and then they'd talk for a minute, he'd introduce me, and then they'd say farewell, and we'd keep going. Tyler McA. was there, bigger then ever, still pumping iron.

Mary W. was there -- yes, the same one that's in CA. What was she doing back? I don't know, but it was very good to see her. Since I haven't seen her since graduation, I wanted to chat with her and figure out how she was doing.

It did not seem weird to me that she was in her interview suit, the black suit with a black, knee-length skirt, and the shirt she always wore with the brooch around the neckpiece. What was it all called? You got me... The shirt wasn't violet, wasn't exactly purple. It seemed a lot redder than violet, and a lot brighter, too. I seem to remember that color quite vividly. The neckpiece looked like an ascot, but I knew it wasn't. It was of the same material, but it looked more like it just came around the front, and was pinned together with the brooch.

In any case, she was singing with the choir as an alto. I could hear a distinct alto line coming from her mouth, and it sounded really good, like I remember. (A bit of context: Based on the way that Mary talks about her singing abilities, she can't sing worth a flip. Maybe I'm just wacko, but I think she has a great voice, and I've heard her sing...)

The song they were singing sounded like, "My Little Buttercup", but instead of such innocent lyrics, the song was called, "Mr. Sedevacantist." But since the title needed to be shortened to fit the melody, the group was singing,
"My Little Sedev-ist,
Sweet little Sedev-ist..."

Ken, and everyone else who considers me a Traddy, eat your heart out...

Mike P. was also singing with them -- even though I just saw him running the opposite direction...

Well, we finished exploring the gym, and I left. I got in my car, and drove to the other side of campus. The weather had now changed, and it was getting really cloudy and windy, as though a big storm was coming. I parked the Acura outside in the parking lot, and I was going to go see the guys. I walked in the direction that the guys dorms were, only they weren't there anymore. It was getting darker, the wind started blowing harder, and I suddenly realized that I was walking into a bit of a forest. The trees were mostly branches, and there were vines all over the place. I circled through the forest, hoping to maybe find where the dorms were, but I was only making a large loop back to the car. I noticed a run-down building in the distance, so I went to investigate. As I approached, I heard familiar voices inside, and suddenly they started singing,
"My Little Sedev-ist,
Sweet little Sedev-ist..."

I walked inside. Emma F. was one of three sopranos. There were no altos -- Mary hadn't shown up yet. There were two tenors, Mike P. and Dr. Davidson. There were no basses. The freakiest thing about this: I heard basses. TRUE basses. I opened the door expecting to see Julian A. or John E., but there neither. I looked at Dr. Poterack, assuming that he had sung the bass line, but he somehow knew what I was thinking and shook his head, smiling in his mysterious/mischievous/impish way...

As I went to greet them, they all huddled together in a football huddle. I looked quizzically at them, expecting something, but they stayed there, talking. As I watched, Emma popped her head out, and, in mockery, winked at me. Then, without smiling, laughing or turning red like she does when I wink at her, she ducked back into the huddle. I checked the time, and saw that it was not getting any earlier, and figured I should leave.

Just then, the choir assumed their places, and began the same song again. Mary burst through the door, as though she had just run from the gym in her nice clothes, already singing the alto line.

As I left, I heard the bass line, in particular, really loud, in perfect balance with everything. The invisible true bass was going lower than any bass I've ever heard. It sounded good, but almost mechanical. It went all the way down to the C below the bass clef, and kept going, at least down to the A -- at least. (My lowest note on a really good day is the E-b -- F on a normal day.)

I headed back to my car. I wasn't going to have any luck finding the guy's dorms. As I walked back to the parking lot, I noticed that it, too, had become overrun with vines. That, and my Acura wasn't there anymore. "What if" thoughts filled my head, and I wondered to myself, "What if it got stolen? What if it got blown away? After all, the wind is blowing really hard now..." I looked around, and saw an abandoned old-fashioned burger stand/joint, also covered in vines. The Acura was nose-first into it. The driver's side door glass had been punched through twice -- the glass was still up, but you could see where the hand went through it. The person who did this tried to open the door like you would in a Lamborghini, and, in the process, had torn the door off it's hinges, and reattached it to the top of the car. I mean "reattached" in the loose sense. They had bent the top of the door, so that it would cling to the top part of the door frame, but upside down. They had also found my toolbox and stolen my radio. The car was still running, the lights were on, and the toolkit was left out, as though in mockery.

As I was standing there, dumbfounded, shocked that my radio had been stolen again, I woke up, realized it was a dream, and fell back asleep.

At this point, I realized that I was hearing my driving music playing, but it was coming from inside my car. I looked carefully at the car, and the interior looked like a hybrid between the Sentra and the Acura. There was indeed a hole where my radio was, but my speakers were still cranking out the tunes. I looked into the hole, and saw what appeared to be a 5.25" disk drive in there, but it was an OLD 5.25" drive. It looked oddly reminiscent of a Mac. I couldn't tell if this new thing had replaced my radio, or not.

I checked my pocket. I still had my keys. The car must have been hot-wired. I didn't check to see if it had. I didn't really want to.

In frustration, I walked away from the car. I wasn't going to abandon it there, I just needed a minute. After all, my alma mater was not being taken care of, my car had been ravaged, my friends could not be found (and when I did find them, they kept singing the same song -- I get the feeling it was being directed at me), and I was --well, generally lost, to be honest. I had no idea where I was. I was at Christendom, but the Christendom I knew didn't have the room to expand like this, so the chances of it being in the same place were slim to none.

I walked back to my car, still buried pathetically into the side of the stand, when I started waking up. I felt reality start to come into focus. The car disappeared, as did my surroundings. I was laying flat on my back, and having a hard time breathing (I've been having asthma problems all day). I checked the time: 03:45. Since I wasn't going back to sleep any time soon, and since I thought that you are all dying to know what else runs through the mind of this weirdo, I thought that I'd post this... It's now 05:31, and I'm about to hit the hay again.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Superman Dream

I was reading the Death and Life of Superman last night before I went to bed. The comic books always made my imagination run wild, and the novel is doing the same...

Guess who I was?

If you said Superman, you're wrong...

If you said Doomsday, you're wrong...

"But, Anthony, you said it was a Superman dream. What gives?"

It was loosely based on the Sueprman novel. I don't remember all the details of the dream, but to put it simply, I was the captain of a Federation Starship (Star Trek). My away crew and I beamed down to earth to discover what the incredible source of energy was that was sending shockwaves into space. Imagine our surprise when we saw Doomsday battling Superman. We discovered them early on in the fight, when both of them had landed several blows on each other, but Doomsday still had his entire mask on, and one arm bound behind his back.

{SIDE NOTE} For those of you sho do not know what Doomsday looks like, here are some pictures...

The first one has Doomsday completely wrapped up, before he began his swath across the planet's surface. The second one is late in his fight with Superman. The third is a picture that is of him completely unbound, just do you can get an idea of about how big he is. He's physically bigger than Superman. If Superman is 6'5", then Doomsday is almost 8', and proportionally that much bigger...


At this point, some of Doomsday's clothes and the cables binding him have been torn off, but he still has the mask.

Now I'm a smart Starship captain. I've read the books. I know how it ends. I know that Metropolis really needs Superman, and that the city will go to pot without him. My first reaction is to shoot Doomsday. Not the best idea, because I might shoot Superman. I know what I'll do! I'll beam him up to a holding cell! That'll work! With all of my Federation technology, I'm sure I can keep him contained.

"Lock on to the figure of Doomsday, and beam him right into a maximum holding cell!"

"Are you sure, Captain? Look at what he's doing to Superman!"

"Of course, I'm sure, you idiot! Beam him up!"

"Give us a couple minutes to configure the holding cell, the force fields, and the transporter. We're not used to holding a being of that size and power."

Sure enough, a couple minutes later, after Doomsday has knocked out Superman for the first time, he's transported up to the ship. Hooray for us, and Federation technology!



We transport back to the ship. Just as my crew had warned me, we weren't used to holding something that big. Sedatives just don't work on a big guy like that either. The entire security team was scrambling, armed to the teeth, to take him out. But I don't think that even the Klingons could have done much to him. (Take any other war race you can think of, the Hunters from the Delta Quadrant, the Jem'Hadar from the Gamma Quadrant. Neither would stand a chance...)

In a few seconds, Doomsday had punched his way out of the maximum confinement cell, and was rampaging through my ship. He tore down every force field that stood in his way, and the phaster blasts were only helping him to get free. If Data and Spock had been there, I'm sure that they would have laughed at the stupidity of their captain...

(At this point, the dream stops making sense. I'll explain why in a minute.)

As Doomsday continued his rampage, I got a brilliant idea: Let's give him a lethal dose of something! Once again, hooray for Federation technology. I filled a large syringe up with whatever drug it was, put a dual needle end on it, and hid near the closest exit that would be logical for Doomsday to take. As he came walking up, I popped out of hiding, ran forward, plunged the thing in his chest, hit the injector end to force the contents into him, and ran away as fast as I could. He just stood there watching me the whole time. He continued walking forward with this thing in his chest when he suddenly faltered. He grabbed the syringe, and yanked it out of his chest, but it was too late. It was empty. He fell to the floor, and didn't move again.

I woke up shortly after this lame ending...

Here's why it didn't make sense. First of all, Doomsday's senses and reflexes are much higher than any normal human being. He would have seen me coming, and crushed me. If he didn't, as soon as I made a gesture to hit him with the syringe, he would have crushed me there. If he was really curious, and allowed me to stab him with the syringe, the needle and the syringe would have broken. His body was too tough for any dinky syringe. Supposing that it did pierce his skin and even get all the way inside, it would have hurt, and he would have crushed me there. Finally, even if I had managed to get the entire contents into him, he would have been easily able to catch up with me. I couldn't outrun him.

Anyway... I was amused by this dream, even if you weren't...