I blame
greygirlbeast and
mech_angel. I read one of the dream sequences, in The Red Tree, last night, and it... stuck with me.
mech_angel gave me a picture she'd drawn, for me; one I plan to get as a tattoo, soon.
I'm in a game that is a combination of Half-Life, DeadSpace, and an open-air prison riot. The goal is to convincingly pretend to be a guard while not getting shot, stabbed, or otherwise murdered by guards and inmates. When you take out the other characters, you can get their weapons, and I spend a lot of time strategically knocking out windows and placing corpses in them. When you die, your personal gravity field is reset. Lots of altercations and bickering with unseen and unheard opponents until, eventually, a transport van showed up, and I had to set my traps...
Something, here, about aliens... Underground labs full of chrome and deep electric blue light; biomechanically developed interstellar travel, like the opposite end of the Xenomorph spectrum...
I'm walking through a flattened version of our front yard. A combination of yards, really, and there are Ravens, overhead. This isn't unusual, because there are always ravens, in my yard; wherever I live, indigenous or no, there are ravens, in my yard. One of them stops flying, and is standing on the ground, near my feet. It's the size of one of the cats, and it starts hopping around me, widdershins, compensating as I walk forward. Occassionally, it looks up at me, to make sure I'm watching. I can hear all of its brothers and sisters, in the sky, staring at me, croaking and cawing at me, and I wake up
To the sound of four or five ravens croaking and cawing, outside my window, pretty steadily, until I woke up. When I was fully awake, and realised I was clutching my Raven Creating The World pendant, they seemed to fly off, still cawing. I managed to get back to sleep, and I dreamed something else about aliens, about prisons, more in that strange combination of Jungle, Desert, Aztec, and Mayan architecture. Ramps from the open mouths of ziggurats and temples, down into the jungle. Light from inside, spilling out into the night. Jungles under the earth. Ellen Ripley and Sarah Connor setting rotating watch shifts... Some of these images are definitely the fault of my Terminator binge, yesterday. And today.
But, mainly, I blame
greygirlbeast and
mech_angel.
Good morning.
I'm in a game that is a combination of Half-Life, DeadSpace, and an open-air prison riot. The goal is to convincingly pretend to be a guard while not getting shot, stabbed, or otherwise murdered by guards and inmates. When you take out the other characters, you can get their weapons, and I spend a lot of time strategically knocking out windows and placing corpses in them. When you die, your personal gravity field is reset. Lots of altercations and bickering with unseen and unheard opponents until, eventually, a transport van showed up, and I had to set my traps...
Something, here, about aliens... Underground labs full of chrome and deep electric blue light; biomechanically developed interstellar travel, like the opposite end of the Xenomorph spectrum...
I'm walking through a flattened version of our front yard. A combination of yards, really, and there are Ravens, overhead. This isn't unusual, because there are always ravens, in my yard; wherever I live, indigenous or no, there are ravens, in my yard. One of them stops flying, and is standing on the ground, near my feet. It's the size of one of the cats, and it starts hopping around me, widdershins, compensating as I walk forward. Occassionally, it looks up at me, to make sure I'm watching. I can hear all of its brothers and sisters, in the sky, staring at me, croaking and cawing at me, and I wake up
To the sound of four or five ravens croaking and cawing, outside my window, pretty steadily, until I woke up. When I was fully awake, and realised I was clutching my Raven Creating The World pendant, they seemed to fly off, still cawing. I managed to get back to sleep, and I dreamed something else about aliens, about prisons, more in that strange combination of Jungle, Desert, Aztec, and Mayan architecture. Ramps from the open mouths of ziggurats and temples, down into the jungle. Light from inside, spilling out into the night. Jungles under the earth. Ellen Ripley and Sarah Connor setting rotating watch shifts... Some of these images are definitely the fault of my Terminator binge, yesterday. And today.
But, mainly, I blame
Good morning.