Tuesday, 27 September 2011

Dream IV

Ok, today we have a strange one.

I was me, but not me, and I was in a snowy forest with chat-friends-who-weren't-them. Y'know, when you perceive people to be people you know, but they look/act nothing alike. In the middle of the forest, there was a river. It had frozen over or, rather, frozen completely, and had a thick layer of snow on the top. This frozen river was used as a path through the trees by logging trucks.

By the sides of the river, there were tree trunks on their sides, acting as little barricades. At points, there were guards with guns. Not your normal type of gun, though. They shot something which resembled golf balls. I think they were to keep people away from the logging route.

Me and these friends turned out to be some kind of forest-dwelling anti-logging revolutionaries. We noticed that a few guards had gone, perhaps on a break or to switch or something, so we stole a couple of the golf ball guns and stuffed them instead with snowballs that had been compacted almost to the point of ice. The others cleared the snow from the from river while me and another (I think it was not-Holly) manned the golf/snow/iceball gun. I shot one of the guards in the head, which promptly killed him. Somehow. I shot one of the others, which made him slip and fall on the now-icy river. At this point, one of the logging trucks came along. Not-Holly grabbed the gun, stuffed more snowballs in it and shot at the truck, which made it end up sliding sideways, crushing the remaining guards and a fair chunk of the not-chat people. And not-Holly.

I ran up the hill behind where we were, which was still in the forest and covered in trees. It got steeper, and I had to climb instead. As I climbed, my teeth all came loose and started falling out. I can only assume it's 'cause I got hit in the face with something back at the massacre. At the top, the hill ended in a cliff, which looked out over the sea. There was a small wooden house there, just two or three rooms.

While suddenly in one of these rooms, not-me decided it would be best to kill myself. Hopefully, before whoever it was who was following me up the hill got there. I did this not by doing the obvious of jumping off the cliff, but rather by setting the shack on fire. It was a fairly simple task as the shack was wooden, and this dream nicely forgot that snow makes wood damp.

So there I was, sitting in a burning room, while I could hear the person who had followed me yelling about fire and that I should get out.


And I can't tell you if I burned to death or not, 'cause at that point, my dream switched to a rather uninteresting one about gardening.