Two Again

2011-10-19

Once again, I find myself having a pair of dreams in a single night. These dreams are especially murky; I hardly remember a damn thing about them, so this is going to be an especially short entry.

The first had four people, to my recollection. Myself, my mom, and two children - at least at first. They were a pair of kids, about... 10-ish, maybe younger? Hard to say. A boy and a girl. Soon after arriving, the young boy left because he had to go take care of some business somewhere. Don't ask me. The girl stayed because she didn't feel like going, and I suppose it was presumed that my mother and I would keep an eye on her.

I didn't, of course. We were in a darkly-colored room, walls black, ceiling and floor shades of dark gray. The only things that had color were little balls, which were blue (haw haw haw!) and had white numbering on them. They almost looked like d20s, I guess, but were definitely not dice. Sort of a combination between a d20 and a cue-ball. They were roughly baseball-sized, and they were scattered all around the room.

I was playing 'a game' with the balls, in which I would take the single non-numbered ball and throw it at a ball on the floor. The smaller balls had higher numbers, the larger ones had fewer. The goal was to knock the balls... somewhere, I'm not sure. The ball being thrown was about the size of a golf ball, but was made of a very dense material and weighed more than any of the ones on the floor. They were all coated in some type of rubber or plastic, though, so as not to cause too much damage to the room I was in. It felt sort of like I was playing mini-golf, except it was also like pool.

Anyway, I 'played' this by myself for some time before the girl decided to join me out of boredom. As we played, I noticed that she was getting older. In fact, she had been growing older the entire time that she was in our presence, and before too long she was nearing 14 or 15 years old. We kept on playing the stupid game for some time before my mom told me that I should take her to the mall and meet up with her friend and someone else we knew.

I got the distinct impression that she didn't really want to go, and frankly, I didn't feel like going to the mall either. We complied and stopped our game, but I don't think we were going to meet up with anyone else, I think we were just getting out of there to go hang out with each other. By now, she was 17 or 18, possibly a tad older and quite hot, so I had no problem spending some time with her. She was giving me 'looks,' too, and I started getting the feeling that it was going to be a good night for me before I woke up.

She was nondescript like the woman in the other dream, in fact quite a lot like her. I need to try to remember to get a better look at this chick's face in the future, if she's going to keep showing up in my dreams.


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The second dream happened a bit later, and was even more nonsensical. There was some setup to it, but I can't remember it at all unfortunately. The only thing I really remember was being sent to some room to kill some dudes. Actually, it seemed more like the inside of a tent, maybe one that belonged to some rich Arabian. There were lavish, brightly-colored cushions everywhere, silk sheets, expensive rugs, you name it. Except, instead of being filled with courtesans, the room was filled with guys I had to kill.

They were dressed in those sort of half-shirt, half-jersey things. All of them, different sports teams but of a similar style nonetheless. Some of the guys were white, some were black. All of them had shaved heads and some facial hair going on. I took a look around for a second, and they gave me quite a once-over as well, before I began with my wetwork.

I pulled out my 40 (that is, 40-ounce malt liquor, a Steel Reserver I think) and started shooting them with it. As dumb as it sounds reading it here, believe me, it was even dumber in the dream. What's worse is the fact that this is one of the very few times in a dream that I've actually been able to shoot someone, at least from a first-person perspective in a way that actually feels like I'm doing it. Every other time, either the gun just won't shoot, or it jams, or the bullets are completely ineffective, or I keep missing, etc. etc.. Not this time, though. This 40 oz. was a monster. I was gunning motherfuckers down left and right with this thing.

The most vivid kill was a guy who got right up in my face: I put the 40 oz. under his chin, parallel to his neck, and blew a hole through his head spraying malt liquor and blood all over the place. I woke up at that point.