Nov 242014
 

I was in a New York skyscraper with Bono, Larry Mullen Jr., and our friend Mike R. We went to the top of it and discovered an enormous junkyard. The skyscraper turned into a mile-high mountain in the shape of a building, but the top was rounded and uncarved, and the junkyard covered most of it.

I found a very fancy weight scale, in white enamel with shiny, tufted red leather padding, but there were sticky notes attached to it stating that it wasn’t for sale. Unseen employees started removing the padded sections, because somehow this would allow them to sell it to me.

I turned to see the guys disappear through an empty door frame near the edge of the mountain and followed. On the other side was a six- or nine-foot drop onto a wide metal catwalk that circled the whole thing. I wondered how they’d gotten down there so quickly and easily, since there was no ladder or stairs. I was annoyed that they’d ditched me, and wanted to follow them, but when I looked through the catwalk grating at the ground a mile below, I got dizzy.

As a joke, I almost yelled after them, “Hello! Hello! I’ve got this thing called vertigo!”

Sep 012013
 

Several thousand years BCE: I was in the past trying to preserve statues and artwork for the future by collecting them and putting them in the care of an older man who was very close to immortal.

At one point I had rounded up a group of pristine human statues from a civilization that had left very few remnants of itself, and left them with him. I’m not sure if the statues were supposed to be of gods or people, but they were of various colors, mostly shades of white and off-white, but one was solid black.

I returned some time later to find that the heads of all the statues had been sliced off. Angrily questioning the man, I discovered that he had been swayed by some religious group and convinced that false idols must be destroyed. I eventually convinced him of the importance of what we were doing, and he swore to never deface or destroy anything in the collection again.

Flash forward to the present day: There was a media circus around the compound on the shore of the Mediterranean (Greece? Turkey?) where he had lived and housed the collection, because he had finally died, and the collection was going to be revealed to the public.

My viewpoint switched, and I was above the water, going around a monument as if filming it for a documentary. It was circular, and gave the impression of being composed of rings of low marble walls, barely above sea level. They surrounded a flattened, slightly twisted wedge made of gold, rising about 20-30 feet above the surface. Someone said it was actually on Venus, but I dismissed the idea because the conditions on Venus made that impossible.

Mar 202013
 

I was playing some version of Mechwarrior with virtual reality, because it was as if I was inside the mech. I was playing against some friends, but complaining to Aaron that the customization options were crap.

I was trying to add PPCs to my Warhammer’s arms, and the game wouldn’t let me. To demonstrate, I waved my virtual arms at Aaron, which ended in bare struts instead of particle cannons. Instead, the cannons were stacked on top of my shoulder-mounted missile racks.

I want my money back. 😛

Mar 192013
 

I had a large number of live white mice to use for some construction purpose: digging or chewing away something. There were also rats mixed in with the mice, and the rats were useless and destructive and I had to take them out and do something with them, but I didn’t want to kill them.

Mar 182013
 

I was in some kind of police department, fighting a well-organized gang. Two officers had been captured during a pitched gunfight, and I had infiltrated the gang in order to find them.

The complex they had taken over seemed to get larger the more I explored it, and I couldn’t quite retrace my steps back to the scene of the gunfight.
I turned a corner and almost ran smack into a guy in sophisticated combat armor. I ducked back and watched as he tested the high-speed dart launchers built into the forearms.

Moving on as quietly as I could, I found I had to walk through a large room of gang members settling in and milling around. Many were shirtless, and they all had tattoos and some kind of southern accent. I pulled my shirt off before walking in and strolled through as non-chalantly as I could, making my own tats visible.

I must have blended in sufficiently, because no one spared me a second glance. Feeling more confident, I passed a gang lieutenant and gave him a low, “What’s up?”, at which he nodded, then suddenly turned back to me.

“Hey, come with me, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Having no choice, I followed, and he led me to a stocky, sandy-haired guy; late twenties, short beard, and surprisingly friendly-looking. I knew this was one of the gang leaders.

My escort looked at me and said, “Say something.”

In a neutral tone, I replied, “Something.”

The guys chuckled. Feigning bewilderment and trying to match his accent, I asked, “What’s going on, man?”

Still smiling, the leader said, “You should try sticking to one.”

Shit. It finally hit me why security wasn’t tighter: the accent. Everyone who had been brought in as reinforcements had the same, specific accent, which I had just failed to imitate. Game over, man. Game over.

“So who are you with?”

Since I was blown, there was no point in lying.

“Orion branch.”

“And what are you doing here?”

“You captured two of our officers. I’m here to find them and get them out.”

I paused. “By the way, I have to say it: that combat armor is amazing.”

He broke into a broad grin. “Isn’t it awesome? I love it!”

I laughed. “I had a nerdgasm when I saw that thing! Sorry, I digress. What’s going to happen now?”

“We’re going to have to put you somewhere quiet and out of the way for awhile, and since we can’t have you fighting us about it…” He pulled a canister off his belt and sprayed a yellowish gas in my face.

Everything went dark.

Jan 032013
 

I was with Connor in a discount stereo equipment store, where I was looking for a new receiver. All of the walls were painted a shade of institutional dark pink, like you might find in a nursing home. The entire selection was concentrated in a small area of floor space, overseen by a bored young man who looked like a thin, butch lesbian. None of the speakers had their covers on, and the one receiver I picked up was a small Kenwood unit that looked to be as old as the one I already have.

I decided on a pair of speakers instead, but suddenly the owner was nowhere to be seen. I set off in search of him, with Connor in tow. Turning left outside the showroom I saw a long hallway with doors and side rooms along its length, painted the same color of pink. We wandered down it for a long time, and eventually heard the guy’s voice ahead. We finally arrived at some kind of office, where the owner was on the phone with someone talking about some personal matter. I remember thinking, “Is this any way to run a business?”

While I waited for him to finish, I looked to the right and saw a bedroom; apparently this end of the building was his home. He paused his conversation long enough to ask what I wanted, and I told him I wanted the speakers. In a tone of complete disinterest, he said, “Okay”, and resumed his conversation.

I turned to go, and had only traveled a few yards, when Jorie stepped out of a side room on the left, wearing gym clothes and looking bewildered. To our right was a chest high wall that sectioned off what might have once been an open dining area. Jorie asked something about the store owner, and I told her where he was. We exchanged a few more sentences, then continued on our separate ways.

Dec 122012
 

I’d traveled with a group of nameless coworkers to a training class in an old hotel that had been renovated into a small convention and training center. After lunch and drinks in the hotel restaurant we checked in and went to our rooms. On seeing my room I knew I’d been in the exact same one before, though I’d never been to Oregon until now.

While the parts of the hotel I started out in were very new and modern, over time it seemed like everywhere I went it became older, less occupied, and more unkempt. I never saw my coworkers after checking in, and the actual reason for being there was forgotten.

While wandering, I attracted the attention of an older man, with silvering hair, whom I knew was some kind of Soviet KGB agent planning to kill me, though I had no idea why. I didn’t even question why, it was just a given . He started following me, and I ducked into an elevator to escape him. I hopped out at a random floor high up in the hotel, stepping into a small room with a type of square brick chimney running up the center. I moved into the room and discovered a set of stairs in the floor leading down. Some of the steps were missing, and all were rotted. I debated going down them, until the elevator opened again behind me and the man came out, now wielding a fire axe.

We stalked each other around the chimney, and I managed to keep the chimney between us so he couldn’t see me. I also moved in complete silence so he wasn’t sure if I was there or not, despite a brief scare where my shadow was cast ahead of me. I eventually lapped him around the chimney, snuck up from behind, and…? I don’t recall if I pushed him down the stairs or just took the elevator, but I escaped.

I found myself in disused servants’ quarters full of dust, webs, and bizarre-looking spiders, including a tarantula. I killed them all with a pillow. It then occurred to me that I could have done away with the KGB guy at any time, because I was dreaming. I tried to remain in the dream, but I’d already drifted too far out of it, and woke up.

Nov 262012
 

I was standing in a deep fjord, presumably in Puget Sound, explaining to someone how much I loved the Pacific NW and wanted to return there. I looked behind me, and towering above was a huge, snow-covered mountain in a blazing blue sky. I had the feeling I’d dreamed this before, which involved driving up that mountain along a narrow road with dozens of switchbacks.

Nov 212012
 

A craze had swept the nation, involving a circuit-wiring kit or game made of cheap-looking orange plastic pieces like Lego bricks. They could be wired together to make different things, similar to building on a circuit breadboard or Arduino, but the most popular configuration was a flexible grid. Contained in each cell of the grid was a flat jewel, usually red or green, and also cheap-looking. People would make large sheets of these, which rippled like a flag in the wind.

I wasn’t sure what purpose they served, but I was very leery of them. They felt slightly sinister for some reason. People were obsessed with them, despite lacking any apparent function or real decorative value. I had a very powerful sense of having dreamed of these before.

One day, after the craze had been in full swing for awhile, ships appeared in the sky. They looked like typical sci-fi space freighters: long, angular, and roughly needle-shaped. At first I thought they were starships, but then knew they were sub-light transports, launched from a larger ship.

One of them landed nearby, and I joined a group of people greeting a passenger from it: a young bearded man, in a neat uniform, whom we all knew but hadn’t seen in a long time. I kissed and hugged him, and as I stepped back he smiled and said, “What, no tongue?”

I was startled, because this was very out-of-character for the man I remembered, although I sure wouldn’t have objected. I stammered, “Well, I can certainly do that if you like…”, but the moment passed. The young man told us that the connection between the circuit kits and the spaceships’ arrival was…

…I woke up.

Sep 082012
 

Connor said I was near his family’s place out in the country, although I didn’t see Connor; I could only hear him briefly, and then he was gone. I neither saw nor sensed any other living thing except the trees and grass. I approached a sort-of farm and entered a small pen which contained an open, waist-high, metal box next to an outbuilding.

In the box was a large ferret, alone and nearly ignored. Two small chrome bowls held a few bits of food in them. There was no water bottle or bowl.

He had a face like a teddy bear and was dirty, but not filthy. Forgotten, but still friendly. Barely fed, but still solid. I picked him up and he squirmed a bit, but quickly settled down with some petting.

Looking at him, the word “monde” floated through my head, but I didn’t know if that was a name, or what. I’d never heard the word before, and had to look it up afterward.

I set about finding him some more food, and setting up a water feed, which involved arranging three toothpicks to create a type of drip system. I wanted to take him away from there, but didn’t want to just walk off with someone’s pet if they were coming back, though it seemed unlikely. The entire world felt empty.

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