(no subject)
So, I had a rather interesting dream. All I can remember is the end of it, though.
I was chasing after this man, who was driving a large armor-plated SUV with bulletproof windows. Well, it finally ran out of gas, and since I was just chasing him on foot, for some reason, I was able to trap him. I asked this random guy to give me the worst possible weapon he had, which turned out to be a small hatchet. With the hatchet, I began attacking the side of the suv, in order to make the guy shoot. After a while, he did, but nothing was happening. All of the windows were holding up. He kept shooting, but nothing. I finally broke through the glass.. somehow, and he began firing through the small hole I created. He accidentally shot the random guy who gave me the hatchet. Well, after he ran out of most of his ammo.. or something.. he leapt out of the back with a submachine gun, and shot me about thirty times in the chest. I looked down at it, and even pulled a bullet out of my body. With a shrug, I dug the hatchet into his side, and he continued firing into me, asking why I couldn't die. I told him it was a dream. He told me that it was real life, and that I should be dead by now. I kept attacking him, and he kept firing at me. He was getting weaker, he looked up at the sky, he fell to his knees, and began crying. My living wasn't making any sense to him.
It was interesting...
I was chasing after this man, who was driving a large armor-plated SUV with bulletproof windows. Well, it finally ran out of gas, and since I was just chasing him on foot, for some reason, I was able to trap him. I asked this random guy to give me the worst possible weapon he had, which turned out to be a small hatchet. With the hatchet, I began attacking the side of the suv, in order to make the guy shoot. After a while, he did, but nothing was happening. All of the windows were holding up. He kept shooting, but nothing. I finally broke through the glass.. somehow, and he began firing through the small hole I created. He accidentally shot the random guy who gave me the hatchet. Well, after he ran out of most of his ammo.. or something.. he leapt out of the back with a submachine gun, and shot me about thirty times in the chest. I looked down at it, and even pulled a bullet out of my body. With a shrug, I dug the hatchet into his side, and he continued firing into me, asking why I couldn't die. I told him it was a dream. He told me that it was real life, and that I should be dead by now. I kept attacking him, and he kept firing at me. He was getting weaker, he looked up at the sky, he fell to his knees, and began crying. My living wasn't making any sense to him.
It was interesting...