Dreams are weird as f@#$. I don’t normally remember my dreams very vividly, but when I do, they end up being high stakes thrillers/adventures. Oh, and did I mention this only occurs when I’m cold?

I must have been freezing last night because this one was a doozy. What happened, you ask? Let me tell you:

We’re on a boat–by we I just mean a bunch of people and two of my three siblings. I think we’re on Lake Michigan because I seem to be aware that the nearby city is Chicago. But keep in mind that this is Dream Land and we could end up in Timbuktu at any moment. I’m not saying that’s what’s going to happen, I’m just saying keep it in mind.

So we’re on a pontoon boat–my parents were recently talking about buying one, go figure!–and all of a sudden the sky above and the water beneath us light up with the flames of flying projectiles. The missiles/torpedoes hit the bridges that suddenly appear on three sides of us–I’ve only been to Chicago once, guys!–but somehow we stay on the boat and pull in to a patch of rubble to hide.

Of course, right when I turn to everyone to say, “we need to get out of here! Follow me!” they’ve all disappeared and in the distance I can see the bad guys swarming over the remains of the bridge.

Somehow, I end up on the shore of this lake with one thought: Must. Find. Siblings. I see that one of the bad guys got caught in his own blast and take the blunt machete that’s lying next to his body for protection. It’s better than nothing.

I can see my siblings in the distance huddled together, but every time I try to get close, I’m attacked by a rabid little boy with way too many knives for his own good. He throws one at me and the handle–thankfully–hits me square in the chest. It hurts and I go down. He disappears. I am now beside my siblings, tugging on their arms to get them to follow me to safety. Why I think I know how to handle this situation is beyond me, but it’s my dream and I get to be the hero in this one!

They eventually follow me, but the little boy is still after us and we spend the time until I wake up trading exceedingly violent blows. I think I wake up more because I’m uncomfortable with him being a child than the fact that I’m scared out of my wits.

When I sit up in bed, the sense of urgency is still there, accompanied by a bruising pain in the center of my chest. I can’t help but think that my characters in Jesimae would handle this a lot better than I did. Who knows, maybe they will. 😉