railenthe: wtf!Cloud (wtf)
The fact that I dreamt that I went to a roller disco club with Vincent Price and a militarily dressed David Bowie after an attempted Sasquatch hunt turned up nothing more than an abandoned military satellite in the woods and my biggest question during the whole thing was "Regular or roller blades? 'cuz I suck at roller blades..."

...SERIOUSLY has me second-guessing the nature of the bug chemical I put down.

And Bowie rolled out of that wardrobe in a SPANGLY version of his uniform no less.

Seriously, the hell is this chemical?
railenthe: (Default)

This week is starting off to be a big trouble week.

Right on the heels of a murdershift—not a real murdershift, as I only had laundry today, but a combined one since nobody got home before six yesterday (?!)—I’m facing trouble with my PTSD again. And it’s…RIDICULOUS.

Between the actual problems—people bumping into me, poking me, prodding me, and standing too godsdamn fucking CLOSE even after having received warning, not to mention the fact that people keep REACHING HANDS AT MY FACE—I’m having problems with my soreness. I can feel it every time that I don’t chase a meal with an alka-seltzer.

Then there’s the fucked up dreams.

I didn’t mind the other one the other day—even though moving the cereal around like that is fucking mean—but the one last night was…weird.

People kept stealing things from me and then the apocalypse hit. Everyone else was having a hard time of it. I just remembered to loot the bodies afterward.

Then there was this afternoon. I fell asleep when I didn’t intend on it. I was being held hostage along with some schoolkids I’d never seen before wearing the blandest Catholic school plaid I’ve ever seen. Our fate hinged on the people outside paying ransom for…

ducks.

There were three mallards and a hen. And an egg…

I was more worried about the egg.

A wicked cramp woke me up and the first thing I did was look in the nearest basket to make sure the egg was intact. The egg was gone. Oh gods, the egg was gone, and it might’ve been broken, and if that egg was broken then we were ALL about to DIE—

It wasn’t until I remembered a certain badly translated line—“THINK OF THE DUCKS!”—that I realized it was a dream.

…I looked around again for the egg before getting a couple of pickles to eat. And then drinking the pickle juice.

…I might need a break.

railenthe: (Default)
At one point it was straight-up Inception: it began with a kid sleeping in a bed I knew somehow wanted a gift. Suddenly the guy sleeping on the floor springs up—for some reason he's dressed like Luigi. He jumps up and crawls through this vent; the racket woke the kid up and he followed. The tunnel vent comes out in a room full of electric guitars. Kid makes a beeline for a Les Paul and starts jamming.

That was when I thought I woke up. I was in this house, well-decorated. Suddenly KUJA walks past me. I zombie myself awake and follow him to a dining room table, where I grab a bowl of hot cereal. He is discussing a strategy with someone from a DIFFERENT GAME (Kannuki from Bushido Blade): there is some weird...THING outside that needs must be destroyed. It looks like a harmless pink flower wth one too many pistils. So one of us throws the piece pulled off for observation downfield.

On returning inside we see the result of that on a huge active map: in mere hours the place was overrun with GIANT versions of that flower. We go observe: it's full of matching pink fuzz-colored lizards—and we're watching them evolve.

They ate us, of course.

We wake in the house from before, go back to the dining room, strategize. Second attempt: we get et.

Third: we discover that diamonds are toxic to them. Kuja flies off to find one in where the maps read "ISOCU" (Icelandic-Scandinavian Order of Countries United. No it made no sense), where diamonds are native (ACTUAL WORDS).

Then things happen like in Mass Effect: suddenly, VISIBLE DIALOGUE TREES.

Somehow I wind up in an office wielding a housekeeper cart...and it has a diamond. I steal it and return to base.

By this time the flower thing has spread like a cancer. Its weird lizards are now cool-blooded humans.

We lose the fight.
Things reset. Dialogue trees!

Lose. I make my way back through an apocalyptic East St. Louis—for some reason I am a wolf.

Strategize again. Kuja suggests he do a flyover and drop the giant diamond off from the skies.

THIS WORKS. We camp in the house—where we have now successfully stolen cable—until the news says the pink thing is dying off and the lizards are all gone.

...and I get a second bowl of hot cereal.


Posted via m.livejournal.com.

railenthe: (TEA)
I had a dream that began as a nightmare. I saw a man get out of a car and run to the Metro tracks. As he passed me by, I saw that it was my ex. As my body and mind began to flip out, he got onto one of the tracks, inches away from the live third rail.

I called a friend on my phone, explaining what I was seeing. He says that something may not be right, and to keep an eye. As I watch, a guy that I don't know but seems familiar runs up, and dumps a bucket of water over his head. Sparks jump from the third rail; a nearby store goes up in flames. Nothing happens to him.

The train comes as he stunts, running up and down the rail. It suddenly comes to a screeching halt, mere centimeters from a collision. Arms flailing, he falls from the tracks—and breaks his neck. He doesn't move. No one goes to check him.

I then make another call while I examine his car. A cutesy-fied Cthulhu plush sits on the front passenger seat—I open the door and take it. I can't tell who I've called. I explain what has happened.

My friend is more concerned about the store, the fact that it took out the internet tower. We explore the ruins. No one notices or cares about the corpse, which has begun to smoke.

This message brought to you by LjBeetle. ^_^
railenthe: (WTF?)

In a surprising turn of events, it turns out that I’ve been called off.  This makes Sunday, where we had that LOUSY ROTTEN SUMVA WHO IS APPARENTLY TRYING TO GET ME FIRED, a Monday that I actually did have off, Tuesday/Today, which I now have off, and tomorrow, Wednesday.  A four-day string off.  Slow season is in full swing.  I should treat this not as a snub from the money gods and as a vacation—

 

No!  I’m looking at this in exactly the WRONG way!  Graaaaaaaah!  *violent head shaking and frazzling of hair*

 In which I am heavily caffeinated and seeing strange but hot things. )

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