A Lot of times my dreams contain vivid memories, that seem so real while I’m still dreaming. I think it’s my mind’s way of setting up the story, without taking up time. Last night I had a dream that I had a distinct childhood memory of a big, colorful, whimsical kind of bird called the Winzoar Pterry Dopfer Dopfer. These Goofy birds would swirl around in the sky like kites, with their long feathers trailing behind; and with no warning: they would plunge straight down without a drop of grace. I’ll draw you a picture one day.
I had a dream that there were some horribly evil, really unrealistic, bright-green aliens. They were killing folks left and right. It wasn’t just zapping and vaporizing, there was some decapitating and skinning too. Since the aliens were capable of such atrocities, and also, because they looked like they were made from painted paper maché, what we did next didn’t seem so wrong.
There was a big abandoned art studio that a small group of us came across while we were trying to avoid the horror. Much to our delight, there were babies and children of the aliens, unattended, so, when we heard their parents coming, we decided to kill the youngin’s and hide inside their bodies. It worked well, but I knew I couldn’t stay there forever, I also knew that If the aliens were willing to torture us before, the fact that we killed their children, may have made things worse.
I did a very sneaky good job of escaping, but once the aliens saw their precious little offspring’s gutted carcasses, they were right on our tails. I ran around a city block, and a friend of mine invited my into his fortress, which was a high-end department store. An alien must have squeezed though the stone gate right as it was closing behind me, so, conveniently, I started to fly. My flying actually turned out to be worse than my running, as I was only able to slowly levitate above ground level… that’s when I woke up.