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tugrikThe dream was very vivid; very real. Just this side of lucid but not quite. The few moments I became half awake I found myself with this urge to commit it to paper lest it be forgotten. The reasons ran anywhere from this is very important to hey, it'd be cool journal material. At one point I remember rolling out of bed, grabbing a pen and notepad and scribbling the dream down.
Problem, though: I don't keep a notepad by the bed. Nor do I ever really use a pen and paper. I've been typing things since 3rd grade if at all possible. It's weird to dream about recording a dream.
In any case, it seemed terribly important that I remember this dream and I made efforts to do so, with all the usual little memory-trick games and repeating to myself of things that'd happened. By the time I got into work (horribly late) I felt worn out somehow, as if sleep hadn't helped one bit... and I'd also realized that the dream was rather pointless and not worth that much remembrance at all. Go figure. :)
My old highschool friend Brian Reid, AKA "Agent Orange, 00J", had found me due to chance. His hair had gone from just plain red like mine to a flourescent orangey red. I was able to pick him out of htis huge crowd as if I had a HUD display with "identify friendly" turned on. Maybe his hair flashed, maybe it didn't. Hard to tell. When he bumped into me I was worried he'd not remember who I was. Turns out he did... and he was on a mission. He dragged me off post haste, saying there was somethign very important he wanted to show me.
I kept making smalltalk like long-not-met folk are conditioned to. He didn't say much until I started pestering him about "what are you doing for a living nowadays?" It was his current mission/job that had him so concerned, in fact, and we hopped in his car and headed off to an underground complex just outside of Henderson, NV where he lived. Checking in and going downstairs was much like the "letting the president into Area51" scene from the Independance Day movie.
He explained what it was he was doing as we kept going down, down, down inside the base. He was working on a type of power that would at first supply all of Las Vegas with near-free power and then later it'd save the world. The problem was something terrible was happening and he didn't know what. It was up to him to root out the problem and when he'd seen me he figured I was a good choice of someone to help him. We finally entered a huge chamber... about the size of an indoor football field/arena, deep undgeround. In the middle of the room was a stone-textured container, about 20' long by 8' high and 8' deep. It was featureless, and there was only minimal equipment around it. Brian quickly explained it: This was some kind of ultradense material. They opened it up with anti-gravity technology because nothing else would lift the lid. Inside the technicians would place a nuclear bomb of the largest variety humans made (it barely fit in the box).
"Now we close the lid and set it off," said Brian. "The box will hold all the energy safely, and we can just siphon out a bit at a time as needed by these electrodes touching the top and bottom sides. For reasons we don't yet understand, the energy keeps coming out as long as we have ways to use it up. The moment we stop using it, the energy dies... and the box is empty. No radiation either. We can't figure it out, but we won't complain if it gives us free energy."
I thought his big problem he had to solve would be what the solar-industry calls a 'diversion load' -- a way to blow energy in a not-completely-wasteful way because there's no safe way to stop its flow (or it's not desired to stop its flow). A solar or wind system might have a coil in a tank of water as a diversion load, for example, turning any energy above what the house needs into heated water storage. Instead it turns out that what was happening were people were going psycho and running off after the system was triggered, never to be seen again. Brian really didn't want to talk about the details; it scared him terribly for some reason.
The bomb was in the box, and we were standing a mere 50 feet away from it. Brian picked up a box with a button and said, rather matter-of-factly, "let me show you." Before I could protest that I wanted no part of being within 1000mi of an exploding nuclear weapon he pressed the button. I can't really describe the sensation that happened. It was like every earthquake I've ever been in all wrapped up in one minute-long rumble... but it was only a feeling. The room wasn't actually shaking; my vision wasn't blurred. But I could feel the vibrations of the explosion mixed with this incredible sense of dread. It was somewehre between witnessing the power of something like Hoover Dam breaking mixed in with the pure primal fear of seeing the flame-shadows of the Balrog climbing out of the bowels of the eart for the first time.
There, 50' away from us, the box did nothing. It took a full minute more before it started to gently glow a dull red, then stronger. It never got red-hot or emitted any heat we could detect; just that dull red, dirty-speckled glow.
Brian and his crew of technicians gathered up the huge electrode wires (they were like pipes they were so big) and went up to install them. At that moment... one drop of the glowing red on the box got brighter, and started to lift up off the box-lid like a raising glob in a lava lamp. It moved like it was alive... and it was. It had eyes. bright, glowing-crimson eyes. I was the only one who could see it, though. Everybody else kept working.
It looked at me dead on. I got the direct feeling that it evaluated me and took me off a list of some kind of list of possible targets, reacting as if it'd been slapped away effortlessly. It was pissed at me but had no power to do anything about it. I glanced at Brian to see if he was okay... and the glowing energy creature saw the glance. It went straight for Brian, slamming into him with amazing force. An after-image of Brian got slammed away at high speed, like the spirit-ghosts in the "Final Fantasy" movie... and then the shell-that-was-Brian looked up at me with those same glowing eyes.
The body reacted to the loss of its own mind and the intrusion of a hostile one by going mad. The now-not-Brian freaked out, screaming, writhing... and ran off into the darkness of the huge chamber. As he fled, bits and pieces of the glowing creature were being shed from the body; the hostile entity was having trouble holding on, and was shredding the life out of what was left of Brian as the posession went all wrong. The technicians were nowhere to be seen.
That's when my phone rang by the bedside. End of Dream.
Odd. Very, very odd.
Problem, though: I don't keep a notepad by the bed. Nor do I ever really use a pen and paper. I've been typing things since 3rd grade if at all possible. It's weird to dream about recording a dream.
In any case, it seemed terribly important that I remember this dream and I made efforts to do so, with all the usual little memory-trick games and repeating to myself of things that'd happened. By the time I got into work (horribly late) I felt worn out somehow, as if sleep hadn't helped one bit... and I'd also realized that the dream was rather pointless and not worth that much remembrance at all. Go figure. :)
My old highschool friend Brian Reid, AKA "Agent Orange, 00J", had found me due to chance. His hair had gone from just plain red like mine to a flourescent orangey red. I was able to pick him out of htis huge crowd as if I had a HUD display with "identify friendly" turned on. Maybe his hair flashed, maybe it didn't. Hard to tell. When he bumped into me I was worried he'd not remember who I was. Turns out he did... and he was on a mission. He dragged me off post haste, saying there was somethign very important he wanted to show me.
I kept making smalltalk like long-not-met folk are conditioned to. He didn't say much until I started pestering him about "what are you doing for a living nowadays?" It was his current mission/job that had him so concerned, in fact, and we hopped in his car and headed off to an underground complex just outside of Henderson, NV where he lived. Checking in and going downstairs was much like the "letting the president into Area51" scene from the Independance Day movie.
He explained what it was he was doing as we kept going down, down, down inside the base. He was working on a type of power that would at first supply all of Las Vegas with near-free power and then later it'd save the world. The problem was something terrible was happening and he didn't know what. It was up to him to root out the problem and when he'd seen me he figured I was a good choice of someone to help him. We finally entered a huge chamber... about the size of an indoor football field/arena, deep undgeround. In the middle of the room was a stone-textured container, about 20' long by 8' high and 8' deep. It was featureless, and there was only minimal equipment around it. Brian quickly explained it: This was some kind of ultradense material. They opened it up with anti-gravity technology because nothing else would lift the lid. Inside the technicians would place a nuclear bomb of the largest variety humans made (it barely fit in the box).
"Now we close the lid and set it off," said Brian. "The box will hold all the energy safely, and we can just siphon out a bit at a time as needed by these electrodes touching the top and bottom sides. For reasons we don't yet understand, the energy keeps coming out as long as we have ways to use it up. The moment we stop using it, the energy dies... and the box is empty. No radiation either. We can't figure it out, but we won't complain if it gives us free energy."
I thought his big problem he had to solve would be what the solar-industry calls a 'diversion load' -- a way to blow energy in a not-completely-wasteful way because there's no safe way to stop its flow (or it's not desired to stop its flow). A solar or wind system might have a coil in a tank of water as a diversion load, for example, turning any energy above what the house needs into heated water storage. Instead it turns out that what was happening were people were going psycho and running off after the system was triggered, never to be seen again. Brian really didn't want to talk about the details; it scared him terribly for some reason.
The bomb was in the box, and we were standing a mere 50 feet away from it. Brian picked up a box with a button and said, rather matter-of-factly, "let me show you." Before I could protest that I wanted no part of being within 1000mi of an exploding nuclear weapon he pressed the button. I can't really describe the sensation that happened. It was like every earthquake I've ever been in all wrapped up in one minute-long rumble... but it was only a feeling. The room wasn't actually shaking; my vision wasn't blurred. But I could feel the vibrations of the explosion mixed with this incredible sense of dread. It was somewehre between witnessing the power of something like Hoover Dam breaking mixed in with the pure primal fear of seeing the flame-shadows of the Balrog climbing out of the bowels of the eart for the first time.
There, 50' away from us, the box did nothing. It took a full minute more before it started to gently glow a dull red, then stronger. It never got red-hot or emitted any heat we could detect; just that dull red, dirty-speckled glow.
Brian and his crew of technicians gathered up the huge electrode wires (they were like pipes they were so big) and went up to install them. At that moment... one drop of the glowing red on the box got brighter, and started to lift up off the box-lid like a raising glob in a lava lamp. It moved like it was alive... and it was. It had eyes. bright, glowing-crimson eyes. I was the only one who could see it, though. Everybody else kept working.
It looked at me dead on. I got the direct feeling that it evaluated me and took me off a list of some kind of list of possible targets, reacting as if it'd been slapped away effortlessly. It was pissed at me but had no power to do anything about it. I glanced at Brian to see if he was okay... and the glowing energy creature saw the glance. It went straight for Brian, slamming into him with amazing force. An after-image of Brian got slammed away at high speed, like the spirit-ghosts in the "Final Fantasy" movie... and then the shell-that-was-Brian looked up at me with those same glowing eyes.
The body reacted to the loss of its own mind and the intrusion of a hostile one by going mad. The now-not-Brian freaked out, screaming, writhing... and ran off into the darkness of the huge chamber. As he fled, bits and pieces of the glowing creature were being shed from the body; the hostile entity was having trouble holding on, and was shredding the life out of what was left of Brian as the posession went all wrong. The technicians were nowhere to be seen.
That's when my phone rang by the bedside. End of Dream.
Odd. Very, very odd.
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no subject
Date: 2003-05-27 01:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-27 04:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-27 10:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-06-03 06:17 pm (UTC)Another ticket.
More nasty cop dreams....
another ticket...
I've had only one "Cop Dream" in the past year...no tickets.
Now I worry about the dream/nightmare of being murdered...this has come up 3 times within a week.