Captive in Iowa
This one has a very driven plot, much like a movie. This one's rather violent.
______
Dream:
I am in Iowa walking on foot with two people, Martha and some other guy [I don't know who they are or who they represent in the waking world, but in the dream I knew the woman's name was Martha] and I trip on the gravel road and find myself face to face with a cobra. Luckily for me it backs off and slithers into the ditch. As I am picking myself back up, I hear a rattlesnake, and turn my head and see it on the other side of me, almost as close as the cobra was.
BOOM!
The rattlesnake gets blasted with me less than a foot away from it and the barrel of the sawed-off shotgun, held by Martha. I thank her as I stand up and dust myself off and she says
"Don't mention it," as a dusty old blue car pulls up and stops. The driver points at a nearby house and drives on. We decide to investigate... I am not sure if we were originally supposed to go there or if it was just on the way, but the garage door is open so we waltz in.
The garage is rather vast and dark, more like a warehouse. It seems to take up the whole lower level of the house. Martha spots a stairway that leads up into the second floor and goes up. I look up the stairs. They aren't very wide, but there was no room in the stairwell to actually go up or down in a standing position; the steps were less than a foot from the diagonal ceiling! I had absolutely no intention of climbing (or crawling, rather) up the stairwell, especially because there were cobwebs everywhere except where Martha had ascended. I started to squeeze through on my way up, and as I got closer, it got tighter in the stairwell. Martha helped me to the top, then we were up next to the kitchen in the house. The third member of our team stayed in the garage.
Almost immediately we felt out of place. Everything in the kitchen was bigger than it should be. The counters were up to our chests, and the pots and pans were massive! I looked over at Martha and said,
"Doesn't this make you feel like a kid again? She was about to say something when someone came into the kitchen with a long barreled 12-gauge shotgun. Martha raises her shotgun but the man shoots first. She is shot in the head and collapses to the floor. I grab a pan off the counter and use it as a shield. He shoots at me but the shot only grazes off the edge of the pan. I run for the stairway as he opens his shotgun to reload. I realize it took me too long to get up the stairs and if I would try he would get plenty of time for an easy shot.
I spot the glass patio doors and run up to them to escape out the back yard, but there is no deck, just a dangerous drop and lots of open space. Just past the yard there was a train coasting down the railroad tracks in a ravine, it looked like it had been nearly destroyed by something already as it was mostly tattered and generally messed up. The man pulls out some sort of submachine gun and is pointing it at me. I start begging for my life, unaware of what he wants or who he was. He seemed like some sort of extremist and was saying threatening and intimidating things.
He hung up his gun on a nearby rack next to the kitchen and pulled out a handgun and shot at the wall next to me, intentionally missing. It was a dart gun with some sort of syringe behind the needle. I panic and frantically beg him not to shoot me, but he shoots me anyway. The dart hits me in the head, right above the hair line. I fall to my knees as my body begins to go numb, accept for my head which is throbbing. I reach up to pull out the dart, but can't decide if I even want to touch it or not. He is starting to ask me questions, but I can't think of anything. I just want to be let go. We do talk about something, so it seems to be some sort of truth serum that I was shot with.
__________
I woke up slowly... reality blending in with the dream world. It took me a while to realize that I was safe, and that Martha wasn't dead, or for that matter even a real person, but why did my head still hurt?
Now that I think about it, I HAVE been playing more Counter Strike lately.
______
Dream:
I am in Iowa walking on foot with two people, Martha and some other guy [I don't know who they are or who they represent in the waking world, but in the dream I knew the woman's name was Martha] and I trip on the gravel road and find myself face to face with a cobra. Luckily for me it backs off and slithers into the ditch. As I am picking myself back up, I hear a rattlesnake, and turn my head and see it on the other side of me, almost as close as the cobra was.
BOOM!
The rattlesnake gets blasted with me less than a foot away from it and the barrel of the sawed-off shotgun, held by Martha. I thank her as I stand up and dust myself off and she says
"Don't mention it," as a dusty old blue car pulls up and stops. The driver points at a nearby house and drives on. We decide to investigate... I am not sure if we were originally supposed to go there or if it was just on the way, but the garage door is open so we waltz in.
The garage is rather vast and dark, more like a warehouse. It seems to take up the whole lower level of the house. Martha spots a stairway that leads up into the second floor and goes up. I look up the stairs. They aren't very wide, but there was no room in the stairwell to actually go up or down in a standing position; the steps were less than a foot from the diagonal ceiling! I had absolutely no intention of climbing (or crawling, rather) up the stairwell, especially because there were cobwebs everywhere except where Martha had ascended. I started to squeeze through on my way up, and as I got closer, it got tighter in the stairwell. Martha helped me to the top, then we were up next to the kitchen in the house. The third member of our team stayed in the garage.
Almost immediately we felt out of place. Everything in the kitchen was bigger than it should be. The counters were up to our chests, and the pots and pans were massive! I looked over at Martha and said,
"Doesn't this make you feel like a kid again? She was about to say something when someone came into the kitchen with a long barreled 12-gauge shotgun. Martha raises her shotgun but the man shoots first. She is shot in the head and collapses to the floor. I grab a pan off the counter and use it as a shield. He shoots at me but the shot only grazes off the edge of the pan. I run for the stairway as he opens his shotgun to reload. I realize it took me too long to get up the stairs and if I would try he would get plenty of time for an easy shot.
I spot the glass patio doors and run up to them to escape out the back yard, but there is no deck, just a dangerous drop and lots of open space. Just past the yard there was a train coasting down the railroad tracks in a ravine, it looked like it had been nearly destroyed by something already as it was mostly tattered and generally messed up. The man pulls out some sort of submachine gun and is pointing it at me. I start begging for my life, unaware of what he wants or who he was. He seemed like some sort of extremist and was saying threatening and intimidating things.
He hung up his gun on a nearby rack next to the kitchen and pulled out a handgun and shot at the wall next to me, intentionally missing. It was a dart gun with some sort of syringe behind the needle. I panic and frantically beg him not to shoot me, but he shoots me anyway. The dart hits me in the head, right above the hair line. I fall to my knees as my body begins to go numb, accept for my head which is throbbing. I reach up to pull out the dart, but can't decide if I even want to touch it or not. He is starting to ask me questions, but I can't think of anything. I just want to be let go. We do talk about something, so it seems to be some sort of truth serum that I was shot with.
__________
I woke up slowly... reality blending in with the dream world. It took me a while to realize that I was safe, and that Martha wasn't dead, or for that matter even a real person, but why did my head still hurt?
Now that I think about it, I HAVE been playing more Counter Strike lately.
posted by John Martens at 3:08 PM
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