I was on the train, and I realized that sitting in front of me was an ex-girlfriend. Since we'd known each other she had become a famous science fiction author. I debated whether or not to leave her alone for a while, but finally decided to talk to her.
I started by telling her how much I appreciated what she had done with her last novel. In the second edition second edition the last part of the novel (where the hero goes on a journey to China) was removed to form the start of her next novel.
When she replied was when I got my first good look at her. She looked like Bridget Fonda in Point of No Return. She said that the journey to China was really a "panel piece," an idea she had gotten from reading Chinese romance novels. "The heroine asks where the emperor's palace is, and her guide points and says 'Three blocks down on the right.' And eventually we get there, but it takes us nine hours." She had been really nervous about the change, afraid that she would lose readers one way or the other. "I make a lot of money worrying about losing readers," she said.
"As long as you don't make Bujold's mistake, you won't lose me," I replied.
"Well, I hope that when you read my books, you get something more out of them because of the connection we shared."
"No, your writing is so good that when I read it I get totally lost in the world you have created, and I don't realize who has written it." I realize as I say this that it hurts her. But it's the truth: I can't realize who wrote it because it would hurt me.
At this point in the conversation I'm lying across two train seats with her leaning over me. Another fan of her work comes up behind her and starts talking to her, so we both sit up. He's a very geeky kind of guy, like a small Andy Dick. He waves his arms around a lot as he talks. He's talking about how there is this empty place inside him when he reads her books. I'm trying to decided if my ex would be more disturbed by me hanging around while she is trying to talk to another fan, or if she is more disturbed by the other fan, when he says "It's like trying to strangle an island."
I wake up thinking that I should have stuck around.
Connections with reality: I've been getting Lois McMasters Bujold's books on the kindle and rereading them, although I stopped this week because I ran out of money on my book budget. I went to a mall last night that had a lot of Chinese New Year stuff set up in the central atrium.
Showing posts with label fish. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fish. Show all posts
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Bad Drivers
It was late at night, and I was down on the old track at CHS. All of sudden these two cars drive onto the field. One is an old, rusted VW bug, and the other is a non-descript VW rabbit. They start racing around the track, but not really paying attention to the track. They're driving off the track and onto the field all over the place, and when they get to where I am (on the corner closest to the back entrance of CHS), they split around me, zooming by on either side. There are women and children running all over the place screaming.
After a few laps, the VW rabbit turns and drives up the hill, along the houses on Grove Rd. and toward the back entrance. The VW bug tries to follow, but ends up going into the creek with a tremendous crash and lots of tinkling glass. I run down to the creek to see what happened, taking out my mini-mag light and waving it around. When I get there the cops have already shown up, and one of them makes some sarcastic comment about how helpful the light was.
The VW bug crashed into a white truck, which was on a smuggling run down the path cleared for the power lines. To get it open we had to pull the front end forward and down. The first guy out of the cab has some blood spattered on him, and he's stumbling around and babbling incoherently. The Don Dennis comes out, as cheerful and dapper as ever. Then I woke up.
After a few laps, the VW rabbit turns and drives up the hill, along the houses on Grove Rd. and toward the back entrance. The VW bug tries to follow, but ends up going into the creek with a tremendous crash and lots of tinkling glass. I run down to the creek to see what happened, taking out my mini-mag light and waving it around. When I get there the cops have already shown up, and one of them makes some sarcastic comment about how helpful the light was.
The VW bug crashed into a white truck, which was on a smuggling run down the path cleared for the power lines. To get it open we had to pull the front end forward and down. The first guy out of the cab has some blood spattered on him, and he's stumbling around and babbling incoherently. The Don Dennis comes out, as cheerful and dapper as ever. Then I woke up.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Toys and Airports
I drove down from Maryland to Virginia to see the people who were designing the new toy. When I got to their offices, it was like the corner of Preston and Mad Ave. in Charlottesville, but Preston and Mad Ave were major multi-lane roads, and the small apartment building on the corner was a 15 story glass box office building with a huge parking lot. I got out of the car, but it was a bright sunny day, and I was covered in layers and layers of clothes because it's so cold in Maryland.
I got to the receptionists area of the toy designers, but they weren't ready for me yet, so I had t sit in a corner while people filtered in and out, having end-of-the-day type conversations. Then I went through a door into a conference room. There was a oval table with a bunch of people sitting around it talking about the new designs.
The toy was going to be a freedom and mobility toy for little kids, so they could drive around and see their friends. The idea was to get a jump on the teenage desire for a car. It looked like a complicated rocket on wheels, with all sorts of pipes running around the outside. At one point I was passed designs for two pieces of safety equipment. The one I remember was the seat belt, which looked like one of those complicated weight-lifter belts, but it was made out of red plastic. I was thinking that I should have talked to the engineers back at my job at the Consumer Product Safety Commission, to find out what the latest in safety technology was. I knew I was going to be coming down to look at safety designs, so it was really stupid of me not to have thought ahead.
I got up to get something to drink, and there was a ton of noise from the reception area like a bunch of people leaving for the day. When I turned around it was night and the offices were dark and empty. I wandered around for a while trying to find people, but the modern high-tech offices were now some huge old house. Every office I looked into still had a big old bed in it. Eventually I ran into two of the women working on the toy. They were on the floor above me coming down. One of them was really pretty, and had on two tight white tank-tops. There was a light coming in one window and perfectly lighting up her breasts, just like a shot from American Beauty. The other woman with her was wearing a loose black skirt, and I had the impression she was very pretty, but I was just entranced by the woman in the tank tops, and never even really looked at her.
They came down the stairs to show me the toy, which was a light brown Zhu Zhu pet. They put it down on the floor and it drove around running into the walls. Eventually I realized there was a guy following us around with a remote control, and he was the one driving it. He wasn't intentionally driving it into the walls, he was just having trouble controlling it.
But then it was time for me to go to the Metro and catch my train to the airport. I went outside with my luggage slung over my back. I was running through the streets, and my sister Kara was running along side me. But I outpaced her by running through the gutter of a right turn lane. Then I was running side by side with a banker down the street. The banker had on a grey suit and a red tie. The light hadn't changed yet, so the street was empty, but we could see the cars behind and in front of us getting ready to drive down the street. I was running at an easy pace, but the banker was really panicked and running full out, although he was going no faster than me.
We jumped through gaps in the hedge on the median and made it across to the Medical Center stop on the Red Line. There was a huge circular drive to get up to the Metro station, but I took a shortcut around the right side. I got down into the concrete canal where the train ran, and then all of a sudden I was at the airport, walking through the parking lot. The airport was like a huge version of White Flint shopping mall, and I walked in through an Indian shoe-repair store. It had a bright red sign just like this Vietnamese Restaurant on 355, but instead of Pho 97 it was Mo Der 85. And it was in some weird font with bent lines. [I think "Mo Der" is a refernce to Mohinder Singh, a character in the novel Interface by Neil Stephenson and J. Frederick George.]
Inside was like a shopping mall, but instead of a wide open area between the stores it was a huge waiting area of rows of armless chairs, packed full of people. I wandered around for a while before I found my way to the departures area. I had to go down this long tunnel to get there, all cinder block and overhead pipes. Whenever there was a turn in the tunnel, huge signs had been made out of orange construction paper. They all said "Hey Kid" in three foot high letters, with a huge arrow pointing the way. The signs were in various states of disrepair, with the individual sheets of construction paper falling off the wall.
When we got to the security check point I panicked. I was searching through my backpack looking for my baggage claim check, because I knew they wouldn't let me through the security screening without it. As I'm going through all of the junk in my backpack, I realize that I haven't put it all into clear plastic bags for the screeners. Then I saw my utility knife, which I obviously forgot to put in my checked bag. That's when I realize that I never checked my bag, and I left it in the trunk of my car. I'm so panicked I can feel my heart pumping in my chest, vibrating my whole body like a jackhammer.
A helpful guy with curly hair in a white t-shirt comes over and we head back to the parking lot to get my bag. He asks me when my flight leaves, and I pull out my ticket and see that it leaves at 4:00. Then I take out my Droid cell phone to check the time. I turn it on and it says 4:40 and I freak out because I'm late by 15 minutes [apparently I'm not so good at math in my dreams]. But then I realize that 4:40 isn't the time now, it's just something from one of the apps. But I can't get the phone to tell me what the time is. I keep pressing buttons and changing apps, but all I can find is a lengthy definition of time in some fancy script. Eventually I force the phone to shut down and reboot, and find that it's 12:40, and I have tons of time to get my bag and check back in.
Me and the curly haired guy exit the concrete tunnels and walk out onto a grassy area. By the time I get to the actual parking lot the curly haired guy has disappeared. The section of the parking lot I'm in is completely empty of cars. However, the land is curved in a bowl, and I can see the rest of the parking lot going on for what seems like miles, and it is packed full of cars. I'm walking down toward were my car is, and there are a bunch of black teenagers in the parking lot. They're walking around in a way that's almost like a dance routine and singing. Most of them wander off, leaving one guy behind. He's balancing on a rock the size of his foot and singing. I get to my car and get my huge black bag out of the trunk.
I start the long walk back to the baggage check, which is near the Mo Der 85 place on the other side of the mall. When I get there a woman is sitting in the chair with one of those old beehive hair dryers over her head. I reach down and push the button on the front of the chair near her ankles, and out pops a baggage claim check. I turn around and leave, and as I'm walking out the door I can hear the woman behind me saying "Oooh, that was the last one."
But now I can't remember where I put my luggage. I'm wandering around the outside of the mall, looking into stores, trying to find the one with the locker that I put my luggage into. Eventually I get back to Mo Der 85, but as I'm walking in the door I wake up.
I got to the receptionists area of the toy designers, but they weren't ready for me yet, so I had t sit in a corner while people filtered in and out, having end-of-the-day type conversations. Then I went through a door into a conference room. There was a oval table with a bunch of people sitting around it talking about the new designs.
The toy was going to be a freedom and mobility toy for little kids, so they could drive around and see their friends. The idea was to get a jump on the teenage desire for a car. It looked like a complicated rocket on wheels, with all sorts of pipes running around the outside. At one point I was passed designs for two pieces of safety equipment. The one I remember was the seat belt, which looked like one of those complicated weight-lifter belts, but it was made out of red plastic. I was thinking that I should have talked to the engineers back at my job at the Consumer Product Safety Commission, to find out what the latest in safety technology was. I knew I was going to be coming down to look at safety designs, so it was really stupid of me not to have thought ahead.
I got up to get something to drink, and there was a ton of noise from the reception area like a bunch of people leaving for the day. When I turned around it was night and the offices were dark and empty. I wandered around for a while trying to find people, but the modern high-tech offices were now some huge old house. Every office I looked into still had a big old bed in it. Eventually I ran into two of the women working on the toy. They were on the floor above me coming down. One of them was really pretty, and had on two tight white tank-tops. There was a light coming in one window and perfectly lighting up her breasts, just like a shot from American Beauty. The other woman with her was wearing a loose black skirt, and I had the impression she was very pretty, but I was just entranced by the woman in the tank tops, and never even really looked at her.
They came down the stairs to show me the toy, which was a light brown Zhu Zhu pet. They put it down on the floor and it drove around running into the walls. Eventually I realized there was a guy following us around with a remote control, and he was the one driving it. He wasn't intentionally driving it into the walls, he was just having trouble controlling it.
But then it was time for me to go to the Metro and catch my train to the airport. I went outside with my luggage slung over my back. I was running through the streets, and my sister Kara was running along side me. But I outpaced her by running through the gutter of a right turn lane. Then I was running side by side with a banker down the street. The banker had on a grey suit and a red tie. The light hadn't changed yet, so the street was empty, but we could see the cars behind and in front of us getting ready to drive down the street. I was running at an easy pace, but the banker was really panicked and running full out, although he was going no faster than me.
We jumped through gaps in the hedge on the median and made it across to the Medical Center stop on the Red Line. There was a huge circular drive to get up to the Metro station, but I took a shortcut around the right side. I got down into the concrete canal where the train ran, and then all of a sudden I was at the airport, walking through the parking lot. The airport was like a huge version of White Flint shopping mall, and I walked in through an Indian shoe-repair store. It had a bright red sign just like this Vietnamese Restaurant on 355, but instead of Pho 97 it was Mo Der 85. And it was in some weird font with bent lines. [I think "Mo Der" is a refernce to Mohinder Singh, a character in the novel Interface by Neil Stephenson and J. Frederick George.]
Inside was like a shopping mall, but instead of a wide open area between the stores it was a huge waiting area of rows of armless chairs, packed full of people. I wandered around for a while before I found my way to the departures area. I had to go down this long tunnel to get there, all cinder block and overhead pipes. Whenever there was a turn in the tunnel, huge signs had been made out of orange construction paper. They all said "Hey Kid" in three foot high letters, with a huge arrow pointing the way. The signs were in various states of disrepair, with the individual sheets of construction paper falling off the wall.
When we got to the security check point I panicked. I was searching through my backpack looking for my baggage claim check, because I knew they wouldn't let me through the security screening without it. As I'm going through all of the junk in my backpack, I realize that I haven't put it all into clear plastic bags for the screeners. Then I saw my utility knife, which I obviously forgot to put in my checked bag. That's when I realize that I never checked my bag, and I left it in the trunk of my car. I'm so panicked I can feel my heart pumping in my chest, vibrating my whole body like a jackhammer.
A helpful guy with curly hair in a white t-shirt comes over and we head back to the parking lot to get my bag. He asks me when my flight leaves, and I pull out my ticket and see that it leaves at 4:00. Then I take out my Droid cell phone to check the time. I turn it on and it says 4:40 and I freak out because I'm late by 15 minutes [apparently I'm not so good at math in my dreams]. But then I realize that 4:40 isn't the time now, it's just something from one of the apps. But I can't get the phone to tell me what the time is. I keep pressing buttons and changing apps, but all I can find is a lengthy definition of time in some fancy script. Eventually I force the phone to shut down and reboot, and find that it's 12:40, and I have tons of time to get my bag and check back in.
Me and the curly haired guy exit the concrete tunnels and walk out onto a grassy area. By the time I get to the actual parking lot the curly haired guy has disappeared. The section of the parking lot I'm in is completely empty of cars. However, the land is curved in a bowl, and I can see the rest of the parking lot going on for what seems like miles, and it is packed full of cars. I'm walking down toward were my car is, and there are a bunch of black teenagers in the parking lot. They're walking around in a way that's almost like a dance routine and singing. Most of them wander off, leaving one guy behind. He's balancing on a rock the size of his foot and singing. I get to my car and get my huge black bag out of the trunk.
I start the long walk back to the baggage check, which is near the Mo Der 85 place on the other side of the mall. When I get there a woman is sitting in the chair with one of those old beehive hair dryers over her head. I reach down and push the button on the front of the chair near her ankles, and out pops a baggage claim check. I turn around and leave, and as I'm walking out the door I can hear the woman behind me saying "Oooh, that was the last one."
But now I can't remember where I put my luggage. I'm wandering around the outside of the mall, looking into stores, trying to find the one with the locker that I put my luggage into. Eventually I get back to Mo Der 85, but as I'm walking in the door I wake up.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Bicycling Past Dancers
Note that the date is off for this one, I woke up from this dream on 1/6
I was in Charlottesville, bicycling around town and arguing with Jim. It was not clear at all what we were arguing about, but it wasn't a very heated discussion. We were going west on High St., but when we came to the light at Park St., the way was blocked by dancing women. It looked like a bunch of women had just come out of the offices nearby and started doing a Broadway dance routine in the middle of the street, although by the time we got there several of them had just wandered off. It was obviously a planned event, because the city had put up traffic cones and sawhorses to block the street off for the dancers.
We turned right on Park St., which somehow became 5th St., which we rode up to the intersection with Main and Water. That intersection had become a huge traffic circle that was jam packed with bicycle traffic. One overweight teenage boy with dark hair cut me off, but other than that we got through onto Water St. okay.
We rode down Water St. to the parking garage, but there was a bus blocking the entrance. Jim was really nervous because the bus was beeping and it's reverse lights were on, but I could see it was moving forward. But the parking garage was full of small concrete ledges like the edge of a sidewalk, but twice as high. I managed to bunny hop over them and around the bus at which point I was at the entrance to the UVa bookstore.
That's when I was woken up by my rat going nuts running around his cage and rattling the bars.
I was in Charlottesville, bicycling around town and arguing with Jim. It was not clear at all what we were arguing about, but it wasn't a very heated discussion. We were going west on High St., but when we came to the light at Park St., the way was blocked by dancing women. It looked like a bunch of women had just come out of the offices nearby and started doing a Broadway dance routine in the middle of the street, although by the time we got there several of them had just wandered off. It was obviously a planned event, because the city had put up traffic cones and sawhorses to block the street off for the dancers.
We turned right on Park St., which somehow became 5th St., which we rode up to the intersection with Main and Water. That intersection had become a huge traffic circle that was jam packed with bicycle traffic. One overweight teenage boy with dark hair cut me off, but other than that we got through onto Water St. okay.
We rode down Water St. to the parking garage, but there was a bus blocking the entrance. Jim was really nervous because the bus was beeping and it's reverse lights were on, but I could see it was moving forward. But the parking garage was full of small concrete ledges like the edge of a sidewalk, but twice as high. I managed to bunny hop over them and around the bus at which point I was at the entrance to the UVa bookstore.
That's when I was woken up by my rat going nuts running around his cage and rattling the bars.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Dice Club
I was hanging out with a teenaged Edward Norton in a high school. It wasn't any particular high school, more like a generic high school from some movie. We were trying to get into the locked corridors that that janitors used to move secretly around the school. We had managed to hack the computer security system, and enter in a fake PIN for a short period of time. As we were trying it out we heard some people coming, but we punched in the code and got into the room before they saw us.
I could hear the people talking, and realized it was the principal (an overweight fellow with dark hair) and the new janitor (who I'd never met, but somehow knew was a pretty-but-plain blonde lady). The principal was giving her a job orientation, and mentioned what her pass code for the locked corridors would be 2-0-3-6. This was great, because Ed and I now had a permanent code for the corridors, but it also meant they were coming in to the corridors so we had to high tail it out of there. We snuck through the secret corridors and out into the woods behind Charlottesville High School.
The next day in Algebra class at Walker Middle School we started organizing an underground student rebellion. Some other kid (an overweight pompous type) challenged us for leadership of the revolution, so we went down to the cafeteria to fight it out. The challenge was resolved with some dice game, which involved throwing the dice at your opponent. I beat the guy in the challenge. Norton and I were leading an angry mob of students into the locker area when I woke up.
But I was still dreaming.
I was in Jason McLeod's old room on Locust Ave. (East side), but it was my brother Kirk's apartment. I was waiting for Kirk, Mom, and Ryan to get back, and to kill time I was reading Cerebus #9, although the comic otherwise looked like Cerebus #51. After a while I stopped reading it and put it down on top of the plastic bag it had been stored in.
When Kirk and the others got home he noticed that the tape from the plastic bag had stuck to the cover of the Cerebus comic, and peeling it off stripping the ink from that part of the cover. He was really mad about it, and wanted to know who had been reading his comics. I owned up that I had done it, and promised to buy him a new copy of that issue. He pointed out that the issue is rather hard to find, especially since most of the comic shops have closed because of the recent economic downturn. He thought the comic shop near me might be a good place to try, though.
[Now this is interesting. The comic shop he is talking about is not a real comic shop: it's one that has shown up in several other dreams of mine. You get their by catching a bus at the corner of Monticello and Altavista in Belmont, which goes a few blocks out of Charlottesville and ends up in Rochester, NY. It's a big and wonderful comic shop that takes up several buildings, completely in contrast to the actual (sucky) comic shop in Rochester (at least when I was there)]
Ryan was confused and didn't understand what the problem was. We explained how the tape that hold comic storage bags closed often adheres to the comic itself, damaging the cover. By that time we needed to get ready to go to the rock concert at the bat perserve in Gainesville, FL. I put on my punk skull T-shirt that Kirk had made for me, which was drawn in a Southwestern Voodoo style. Mom was running around with a mesh bag full of orange onions, trying to make sure we had enough food.
That's when I really woke up.
I could hear the people talking, and realized it was the principal (an overweight fellow with dark hair) and the new janitor (who I'd never met, but somehow knew was a pretty-but-plain blonde lady). The principal was giving her a job orientation, and mentioned what her pass code for the locked corridors would be 2-0-3-6. This was great, because Ed and I now had a permanent code for the corridors, but it also meant they were coming in to the corridors so we had to high tail it out of there. We snuck through the secret corridors and out into the woods behind Charlottesville High School.
The next day in Algebra class at Walker Middle School we started organizing an underground student rebellion. Some other kid (an overweight pompous type) challenged us for leadership of the revolution, so we went down to the cafeteria to fight it out. The challenge was resolved with some dice game, which involved throwing the dice at your opponent. I beat the guy in the challenge. Norton and I were leading an angry mob of students into the locker area when I woke up.
But I was still dreaming.
I was in Jason McLeod's old room on Locust Ave. (East side), but it was my brother Kirk's apartment. I was waiting for Kirk, Mom, and Ryan to get back, and to kill time I was reading Cerebus #9, although the comic otherwise looked like Cerebus #51. After a while I stopped reading it and put it down on top of the plastic bag it had been stored in.
When Kirk and the others got home he noticed that the tape from the plastic bag had stuck to the cover of the Cerebus comic, and peeling it off stripping the ink from that part of the cover. He was really mad about it, and wanted to know who had been reading his comics. I owned up that I had done it, and promised to buy him a new copy of that issue. He pointed out that the issue is rather hard to find, especially since most of the comic shops have closed because of the recent economic downturn. He thought the comic shop near me might be a good place to try, though.
[Now this is interesting. The comic shop he is talking about is not a real comic shop: it's one that has shown up in several other dreams of mine. You get their by catching a bus at the corner of Monticello and Altavista in Belmont, which goes a few blocks out of Charlottesville and ends up in Rochester, NY. It's a big and wonderful comic shop that takes up several buildings, completely in contrast to the actual (sucky) comic shop in Rochester (at least when I was there)]
Ryan was confused and didn't understand what the problem was. We explained how the tape that hold comic storage bags closed often adheres to the comic itself, damaging the cover. By that time we needed to get ready to go to the rock concert at the bat perserve in Gainesville, FL. I put on my punk skull T-shirt that Kirk had made for me, which was drawn in a Southwestern Voodoo style. Mom was running around with a mesh bag full of orange onions, trying to make sure we had enough food.
That's when I really woke up.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Bicycles, Cats, and Drugs
The dream started out with me riding my bicycle. It was a warm sunny day, and I was riding down a long straight two lane road with almost no cars on it. The road went up and down hills much like the stretch of 29 north of Charlottesville. However, the sides of the roads were more like the area around Gainesville Florida. I was riding along incredibly fast. It was mostly under my own power, but when I went up hills I could feel some sort of powered assistance pushing me along.
I rode my bike down the road for a long time (this part was one of the best dreams I've had in a long time). Eventually I came to a large building on a large artificial hill with a flat top. At first I thought it was Ash Lawn, but it turned out to be some big, blocky University building with a neo-classical front. There was a warning sign saying not to approach the building, but it was ambiguously worded so I rode past it up to the building.
When I got into the building I found that Chris had finished breaking into the safe with the prescription drugs. I took two pills back to the cats who were on the bed, and fed them the drugs. I figured I could get them addicted to the drugs and then they would do whatever I wanted. On my way out Chris showed me the drugs, neatly pinned down and labeled like a butterfly display. I reminded him that we needed to get to New York before the cops showed up, and went out for a jog.
I went out onto the flat top of the hill and jogged around top on a macadam path. I got a look at myself I was a man-cat. I was thinking that our latest projections showed that global warming would destroy mankind, but we could still save the cats. We just needed to trick the humans into thinking that preserving enough salt would save them, when really it would save the cats.
When I got back from my jog I was on Wisconsin Ave. north of Dupont Circle. All the lieutentants of my gang had gathered there, and I had the drugs in my blue backpack. I started handing out the plastic baggies full of white powder to my lieutentants, and then set the open backpack on the ground between two parked cars so the others could get their own, and so I could look around and make sure no one noticed.
Unfortunately someone had noticed and police started pouring into the street. A huge gun battle started, and I grabbed my backpack and ran around the corner. There one of my lieutenants, a Japanese guy in a blue jacket, got chased into a store by two police officers. It was one of those stores with a small inventory of incredibly high priced items that look completely empty. I chased them in, two pistols blazing. I shot both of the police officers, but not before they shot my lieutenant.
Then I saw an undercover cop running toward the store, another Japanese guy, but this time with orange streaks bleached into his hair. I tried to keep out of his view behind a section of wall, but he saw what I was trying to do. As he dove into the store we shot at each other. I missed but he hit me square in the chest and I went down. He then ran out the store to deal with the rest of my gang.
Of course, I was wearing body armor and got up after he left, grabbing the evidence off my lieutenant as I snuck out of the store.
Then I woke up with Michael Jackson's "Beat It" stuck in my head.
I rode my bike down the road for a long time (this part was one of the best dreams I've had in a long time). Eventually I came to a large building on a large artificial hill with a flat top. At first I thought it was Ash Lawn, but it turned out to be some big, blocky University building with a neo-classical front. There was a warning sign saying not to approach the building, but it was ambiguously worded so I rode past it up to the building.
When I got into the building I found that Chris had finished breaking into the safe with the prescription drugs. I took two pills back to the cats who were on the bed, and fed them the drugs. I figured I could get them addicted to the drugs and then they would do whatever I wanted. On my way out Chris showed me the drugs, neatly pinned down and labeled like a butterfly display. I reminded him that we needed to get to New York before the cops showed up, and went out for a jog.
I went out onto the flat top of the hill and jogged around top on a macadam path. I got a look at myself I was a man-cat. I was thinking that our latest projections showed that global warming would destroy mankind, but we could still save the cats. We just needed to trick the humans into thinking that preserving enough salt would save them, when really it would save the cats.
When I got back from my jog I was on Wisconsin Ave. north of Dupont Circle. All the lieutentants of my gang had gathered there, and I had the drugs in my blue backpack. I started handing out the plastic baggies full of white powder to my lieutentants, and then set the open backpack on the ground between two parked cars so the others could get their own, and so I could look around and make sure no one noticed.
Unfortunately someone had noticed and police started pouring into the street. A huge gun battle started, and I grabbed my backpack and ran around the corner. There one of my lieutenants, a Japanese guy in a blue jacket, got chased into a store by two police officers. It was one of those stores with a small inventory of incredibly high priced items that look completely empty. I chased them in, two pistols blazing. I shot both of the police officers, but not before they shot my lieutenant.
Then I saw an undercover cop running toward the store, another Japanese guy, but this time with orange streaks bleached into his hair. I tried to keep out of his view behind a section of wall, but he saw what I was trying to do. As he dove into the store we shot at each other. I missed but he hit me square in the chest and I went down. He then ran out the store to deal with the rest of my gang.
Of course, I was wearing body armor and got up after he left, grabbing the evidence off my lieutenant as I snuck out of the store.
Then I woke up with Michael Jackson's "Beat It" stuck in my head.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)