Dreams of Doom: Episode One

I have weird dreams. Not in a disturbing, prophetic way, simply in a 'my subconscious is on drugs' way.

For example, I once had a dream that a giant people-eating strawberry was chasing me through the vegetable section of a grocery store, causing a lot of property damage. Also it was terrifying.

Eeep!

I don't recall the middle, or if there was a middle hunk of plot, but by the end of the dream I was helping the evil strawberry into a pretty blue dress so that she (yes, it had a gender) would look pretty on her date with Justin Timberlake.

...

Indeed.

Recently however, I have had a string of dreams with similar concepts in the same-ish setting. That is, my dreams have been set in different post-apocalyptic universes.

With fewer beards.

To add to the oddness, many of the post-end-of-the-world dreams take place at my grandmother's old farm house. It was basically a bigger, classier version of the Monster House, plus a barn.

Ah, childhood.

I am going to record some of them in blog format. For no reason other than because I can.

Dream of Doom the First

I was a half-ferret, half-human mutant. I lived with a small colony of such beings, including my cousin Bobby. We lived in the barn, not the house. For the love of anything you hold dear,

My joys are simple.

DO NOT GO IN THE HOUSE!

I have no idea why, but I got the impression that Beings similar to the I Am Legend rage zombie things lived inside.

The movie aside, these guys were terrifying.

There is a church across the road from my Grandmother's old house. A refugee group of humans lived inside of it, and it was mine and Bobby's job to go steal food from them. There was a third ferret person with us, who had no name, that I am going to call Red Shirt for now.

Google Image pleasantly surprised me this time.

A van drove up with food, and as soon as they popped the trunk, the three of us dashed forward, grabbed one bag each, and fled up the driveway towards the barn. The humans let us go, as they pitied us.

Also, my grandmother's driveways is a good 150 meters long, plus an extra 60 meters to get to the barn.

As we passed the house, Red Shirt questioned why we do not live there. We told him he is stupid and to keep running. Red Shirt then entered the house.

Yep.

We abandoned, him like the good friend we were, and continued to the barn. The elder ferret-man laments Red Shirt's stupidity, and we eat.

The End.

I still wonder what kind of apocalypse would result in ferret-man mutants.

His master plan - we'll never see it coming!

Fire?

There was a riot in Downtown Vancouver when we lost a hockey game the other day.

Burn?

I live in Downtown Vancouver.

The crazy people were actually several blocks away, so I was in no danger of murder-by-Canucks-fans. But, considering that most of my friends live in Ontario, the fires might as well have been 10 feet away from me. Clearly I was in mortal peril.

Indeed.

Unlike all my lovely friends who were concerned for my well being, I was not concerned for myself. I don't care enough about hockey to join a riot, or to tell the rioters that they are dumb, so I remained in my apartment with my sister, lamenting the finale of Angel. And while I do very much enjoy fire and burning things, I was not about to go risk being near an explosion just for a romantic kiss.

I hate romance.

No, all I cared about was a comic book shop that is very dear to my soul. One that happens to be right in the middle of all the mayhem.

Red: The Riot. The blue dot: Comic Book Store.

True, I rarely buy things from this shop, as I am exceptionally poor, but that doesn't mean I don't care. I look forward to the days when I put on some clean clothes and venture out of my cave into the sunshine to go have a wee adventure there.

Sunlight?! It burns us.

I probably bother the employees with my space-eating. I pretty much just browse and hang out there while listening to the soundtrack from Majora's Mask on my iPod for around an hour, then leave. But really, where else am I going to make nerd friends?

Oh yeah...

Thankfully, my beloved comic book store was unharmed. Less thankfully, all the destruction was completely cleaned up before I had even stopped playing Tales of Symphonia the morning after the craziness. It was lame.

And awesome.

I wanted to see some smashed stuff! Oh well. I guess I'll have to wait until next time Canada flips a shit.

Oh yeah, I forgot, we're CANADA....

I am bored. And short.

I don't have a job. I want one, but simply wanting something really hard won't make it so. Much like my childhood desire to be tall. I didn't really want to be pretty (choosing instead to play in the mud), and I didn't really want to be rich (oh how times have changed). No, all I wanted was to be tall. 

Not just tall, but very tall. 

So tall small that children would look up at me a cry.

FEAR ME!

So tall that Japanese tourists would mistake me for Godzilla.

Also an influential TV show from my childhood

But as anyone who has met me knows, I am not tall. Not even a little bit. I know for a fact that I haven't grown since Grade 7, as two pairs of jeans I bought then still fit me like a dream. I probably haven't actually grown since I was 9 years old. Yup, it is fair to say that my genetics kicked my childhood dream in the balls.

A dramatic re-enactment 

My one glory is that I am every-so-slightly taller than my older sister. Its a short lived glory, however, because although I am bigger than her, she can totally kick my ass. We arm wrestled a day or two ago, and 2 minutes in she asked me, “Are you going to start trying soon?”

I replied sadly, “I AM trying!” And I was trying. Very hard.

My defeat that followed was so rapid and great that even France would have laughed at me.

He's also more popular with the ladies than I am.

Yes, I am indeed the tiny, weak, ineffectual girl that men get taunted for screaming like.

The moral of the story children:

Some dreams can't come true, because science won't let them.

As seen above.