Dream Theatre
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I do not know what happened this morning. I know there was a short discussion with people that did a hit and run dismissal of my attire, followed by a comment one of them could not let stand. Permitting her rebuttal, she quoted the catch-phrase uttered by Jeff Bridges' character in preparation for his audition, and so that was that. I was off to a stairwell for some reason.
The odd thing about that stairwell was how it advertised its units were part of larger complexes, accessing a wider array of facilities than just parking lot stairwells. I climbed, found it was not so in this place after a few floors, and arranged to put myself into several other such stairwells at the same time, scattered...I don't know. Maybe they were all still in the same city, maybe far and wide. I leapt across for a bit before one of them found itself at the top of a very tall police station, with a curtained off windows giving only hints of the activities happening several floors down.
Still, this place was selling soft curry flavoured ice cream in waffle cones with the option for ginger flavouring as well, and that seemed pretty cool, but my hands were full of garbage and by the time I got rid of that, I'd accidentally acquired someone else's cone. I couldn't find out who it belonged to, so I gave it to the elder man that asked me if he could have it, and I went to find the exit. (Never did get a cone after all.) That lead to an escalator to the ground floor, where you unfolded a tiny seat on the rail to ride, as I was advised by the young lady that followed me on, presenting the whole explanation as though she'd been drilled to give it like a flight attendant. The ride ended more quickly than the speed suggested it would, and then I was back in the stairwell.
I was then distressed to discover that I could no longer contact any of my other bodies. Try as I might, I couldn't form the link, which may have been why I didn't notice that the people shooting at me weren't causing me any pain or injury when the bullets they were firing bounced off me. I felt impact, but it was on par with being shot by ping pong balls. Still, there were a lot of them and I decided I needed to find a safer place.
The alarm clock went off before I got to the elevator I found in the stairwell, so I never did find out why they were shooting at me. More sleep would be nice, though.
I do not know what happened this morning. I know there was a short discussion with people that did a hit and run dismissal of my attire, followed by a comment one of them could not let stand. Permitting her rebuttal, she quoted the catch-phrase uttered by Jeff Bridges' character in preparation for his audition, and so that was that. I was off to a stairwell for some reason.
The odd thing about that stairwell was how it advertised its units were part of larger complexes, accessing a wider array of facilities than just parking lot stairwells. I climbed, found it was not so in this place after a few floors, and arranged to put myself into several other such stairwells at the same time, scattered...I don't know. Maybe they were all still in the same city, maybe far and wide. I leapt across for a bit before one of them found itself at the top of a very tall police station, with a curtained off windows giving only hints of the activities happening several floors down.
Still, this place was selling soft curry flavoured ice cream in waffle cones with the option for ginger flavouring as well, and that seemed pretty cool, but my hands were full of garbage and by the time I got rid of that, I'd accidentally acquired someone else's cone. I couldn't find out who it belonged to, so I gave it to the elder man that asked me if he could have it, and I went to find the exit. (Never did get a cone after all.) That lead to an escalator to the ground floor, where you unfolded a tiny seat on the rail to ride, as I was advised by the young lady that followed me on, presenting the whole explanation as though she'd been drilled to give it like a flight attendant. The ride ended more quickly than the speed suggested it would, and then I was back in the stairwell.
I was then distressed to discover that I could no longer contact any of my other bodies. Try as I might, I couldn't form the link, which may have been why I didn't notice that the people shooting at me weren't causing me any pain or injury when the bullets they were firing bounced off me. I felt impact, but it was on par with being shot by ping pong balls. Still, there were a lot of them and I decided I needed to find a safer place.
The alarm clock went off before I got to the elevator I found in the stairwell, so I never did find out why they were shooting at me. More sleep would be nice, though.