After a three hour bout of insomnia last night, sleep came as a demented affair.
In dreamland, I found myself bound to a chair in a dark room, with only a single, flickering lightbulb above my head for light. The room was grimy, and smelled of sweat, vomit, and blood. Barely visible ahead of me was the bloody but still discernable face of the Hamas Mickey ripoff, Farfur.
I spoke to him, although while my thoughts were in English, the words came out as babble. Maybe I was speaking arabic, I wouldn't know. All I know is that Farfur laughed, and then walked into the darkness. Then I could hear it. It sounded like screaming metal, but I knew right away. Somebody was sharpening a blade.
It was at this point that I heard a familiar voice talking to me, telling me what to do. I wiggled my hands free, but didn't make it look like I was untied. When Farfur came back, he held a wicked sword, probably intended for my neck. But I didn't give him a chance. I leapt from the chair and tackled him down.
Of course, the moment I tackled him, I found myself rolling down a grassy hill in the middle of a sunny afternoon. No sign of the the wayword mouse/butterfly anywhere, and the only smell was fresh grass and mountain air.
Weird. I also remember walking a perfectly straight dirt road through a rather grim looking forest, but I don't remember how that plays into either occurrence.
But anyway, yeah. I really want to know which part of my brain comes up with this shit.
2 comments:
Ha...weird. I think you and Danny both have incredible imaginations.
well... perhaps farfur (who i had the pleasure of learning about today) and all that he entails was taken down by your sword and the grassy hill was the cue to mean that taking that regime down would mean final, real peace? the grim forest... perhaps that is where we are headed if cute little farfur succeeds in his plan.
the mind is an incredible machine, even if sometimes it has a few broken cogs.
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