Dreams

I’ve been having some pretty vivid dreams lately.

Oh man I sound like such a stereotypical no-life blogger. All right, let me start again.

Ahh, I can’t. I thought of a few cheesy quotes, a few different introductions, but overall, they all sounded like the product of a stereotypical no-life blogger. Well, guess that’s me. Anyway, of late my dreams have been unbelievably real. I’ve been looking forward to sleeping, and not waking up. No matter what I dream about, I enjoy the dreaming. This lasted for about a week and a half until it slacked off a little these past few nights. I’m now going to bore you with recounts, so stop reading.

One of my dreams transformed me into a high class mercenary with futuristic weapons. Of course you anticipate I enjoyed this dream thoroughly. I threw a grenade to activate a switch on the other side of the bridge so my team could get through to me. I next found myself in a school for children, and I concealed my weapons- two uzi like guns the size of my fists, their holsters strapped to my lower back, and my laser pistol, which was holstered half-way between my right hip and my navel. Personally I think that’s the best place to have a gun- draw-time is optimum. Anyway, I went civilian to guise my way through the school, until some other high class mercenary tracked me down. His weapons were upgraded, different laser-projectiles, potentially charged ammunition (explodes on impact), grenade features, and he really didn’t like me much. And he was fast, too. I mean I shot like a billion bullets at the guy and he got a grazed cheek. Then I sort of gave up and invited him for tea (the beverage), which he graciously accepted.

Last night, one of my dreams involved Eugene wanting to kill me for reasons I cannot remember nor understand. There was a multitude of axes, knives and sticks around for some reason, and he grabbed an axe. I grabbed a much smaller hatchet and a large stick, which were the nearest available weapons. We battled, but I was the one that trained in the back yard with a katana, and I was the one with some element of precision and skill. I parried and deflected all his blows cautiously. Finally realising I stood a chance of survival, I struck his wrist with the stick (which had transformed into a light-weight, wooden katana that would break if I were to block an attack with it), and then his other wrist with the back of the hatchet, causing him to drop his weapons. Now with a moment to breathe, I picked up a different combination of weapons- I can’t remember quite what. Two small hatchets, I guess. I was going for speed, not power, and Eugene picked up a massive battleaxe. Now I was confident, and I blocked all the attacks (X-shaped defence) and struck back in a blur of steel. Each of the blows, although powerful, just caused little cuts in his skin. He realised he wasn’t beating me as I struck his face with the hatchets rapidly. Instead of cleaving him in half, they were halfway between bruises and cuts. I woke up later, trying to recall as much detail as I could.

I don’t actually like this entry, but seeing as I’ve written it, I’ll publish it anyway.

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