I should really make a 'dream diary' tag.
Jun. 24th, 2011 12:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
matt_doyleSo, a couple nights ago, I had a prolonged dream, one that lasted through several cycles of crankily waking up and drifting off again with surprisingly few continuity shifts. In the beginning, I was working in some minor role (intern? reporter? jedi apprentice?) in what appeared to the the Old Republic Galactic Senate in the Star Wars universe. I was investigating something that had to do with political corruption and the misappropriation of clones (I think. Certainly there's some degree of confabulation making this more coherent.), and I believe the clones in question may have been Rei and Kaworu from Neon Genesis Evangelion. Also, the Galactic senate was definitely located in Washington, DC, rather than Coruscant.
In any case, when I tried to expose this cover-up, I and my colleagues (three or four of them? Still no clue exactly what my job description was) were summarily, brutally, and bloodily murdered, shot with a high-caliber handgun in a senator's office. It was... pretty graphic and disturbing for a dream death, actually, complete with pain, numbness, fuzzy consciousness as I started to bleed out and was then shot again to finish me off... but it was quick. Shockingly quick, so that it had no time to become a full-blown nightmare. And I never had that sense of intrinsic helplessness that makes nightmares so distinctly terrifying.
Anyway. Then... I was dead. We were dead, my colleagues and me. At which point... the Archangel Michael came to hang out with our disembodied spirits, and explain that we could not move on until we received some form of closure or justice regarding our deaths... which would be difficult, as our murderer had successfully covered up even the fact of our deaths. And, of course, we could in no way affect the physical world. Archangel Michael in tow, we roamed the Capitol (which at this point looked an awful lot like the Twin Cities. Also, from the moment we were shot onward, I am pretty sure the Star Wars elements of the dream were retconned away, as we never dealt with anything alien or unearthly again, except, you know, the whole ghosts and angels shtick.). Our search was largely ineffectual, until we discovered that someone connected with this mess (I don't remember who; I don't think it was the killer) ran a public Minecraft server. Our ghosts promptly entered the computer and manifested as players in the game... and discovered that the electronic world, apparently, we could affect, much to Michael's chagrin.
Then I woke up.
Very curious about how that would have continued, had I not.
In any case, when I tried to expose this cover-up, I and my colleagues (three or four of them? Still no clue exactly what my job description was) were summarily, brutally, and bloodily murdered, shot with a high-caliber handgun in a senator's office. It was... pretty graphic and disturbing for a dream death, actually, complete with pain, numbness, fuzzy consciousness as I started to bleed out and was then shot again to finish me off... but it was quick. Shockingly quick, so that it had no time to become a full-blown nightmare. And I never had that sense of intrinsic helplessness that makes nightmares so distinctly terrifying.
Anyway. Then... I was dead. We were dead, my colleagues and me. At which point... the Archangel Michael came to hang out with our disembodied spirits, and explain that we could not move on until we received some form of closure or justice regarding our deaths... which would be difficult, as our murderer had successfully covered up even the fact of our deaths. And, of course, we could in no way affect the physical world. Archangel Michael in tow, we roamed the Capitol (which at this point looked an awful lot like the Twin Cities. Also, from the moment we were shot onward, I am pretty sure the Star Wars elements of the dream were retconned away, as we never dealt with anything alien or unearthly again, except, you know, the whole ghosts and angels shtick.). Our search was largely ineffectual, until we discovered that someone connected with this mess (I don't remember who; I don't think it was the killer) ran a public Minecraft server. Our ghosts promptly entered the computer and manifested as players in the game... and discovered that the electronic world, apparently, we could affect, much to Michael's chagrin.
Then I woke up.
Very curious about how that would have continued, had I not.
