I sure do love the meds I’m on, I’m dreaming like never before.
Last night was a cacophony of events and places again, only a few of which I remember. One in particualar was me as some sort of knight. The realism of the battle sequence would put “The 300″ to shame.
It was dark in the day, without a single hint of blue in the sky. The very ground was a marsh of mud and blood. My sword cut, stabbed and dismembered everything in its path. Often times it would get stuck in the bone of my foes and I would have to kick them to dislodge their disfigured bodies from my blade. I was death incarnate, the very one to deliver you to your place of choosing. . . as soon as I got done slicing you open. Shoulder to shoulder I was with my comrades, amazingly never once injuring them in my wild but surgical swinging of my sword. Blood and grime cover me from head to toe, my teeth showing in my continuous battle roar, my eyes filled with hate for the slime I dispatched before me. Many times my foe tried to strike me, but only miss, having already impaled them before their stroke was even completed. I was master of this battle.
shift
I’m lying on my back in a wide tent. My tent. My lieutenants are standing all around me. I feel much older. I look down and I’m bleeding profusely from my gut and several other places. Apparently, I was no longer master of the battlefield. My wounds cannot be healed. A man is before me with a gleaming blade, and I look at him with understanding, nodding my head. He raises the blade high. . .
shift
In this new dream I was in modern times, with a friend. I cannot
remember her name, as in the dream she did not have one. She was completely fictional, and the things we did together as well. We ran down streets and fields of fog, and tried to take pictures of each other with cheap cameras. I grabbed on to end of a chain link fence and because it was loose it swung me around to and fro. Then my alarm clock went off.
end
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