I Am The Night
Possibly because of air conditioning, possibly because of the magic of travel, I had the first solid sleep last night that I've had in a while.
I dreamt about Reedies. Also Batman.
A bunch of Reedies, including myself, decided to break into Batman's house in order to get his attention. We were dressed up as super villains, but we also were super villains, complete with ridiculous powers and eccentric personalities. There were a lot of different themed groups. I was traveling with a pale, sharp-faced Russian colonel (who spoke with a British accent) and a steampunk gentleman. Our super villain gang was called The Military Industrial Complex.
After breaking into Batman's rec room, we all started to fight noisily. Batman didn't show up. After a while we stopped, disappointed. Then somebody said, "Wait, I have his cell phone number. I'll let him know we're here."
We waited patiently while he called Batman. After a while Batman showed up. He was an older, more tired Batman. He was in costume, but somehow I knew that underneath it he had gray hair. He started kicking everybody's asses for messing up his rec room. Everyone was so happy that he had arrived.
Just then I realized that I had forgotten my costume back at my house. I frantically ran back home to go change.
But by the time I came back the fight was over. I'd missed the best part. It was like showing up to a party after everyone had gotten too drunk and were starting to filter home. Most of my companions had departed. Reedie super villains loitered in the street, lounged in dilapidated cars and made out sloppily.
I bitterly sat on Batman's deck. Eventually he came out of the house and sat across from me. He wasn't in costume, but he also wasn't Bruce Wayne. He was still Batman.
"Hey," he said, "I'm sorry you missed the fight. Let's go get some food instead. We should talk about the future,"
And I said, "Okay."
I dreamt about Reedies. Also Batman.
A bunch of Reedies, including myself, decided to break into Batman's house in order to get his attention. We were dressed up as super villains, but we also were super villains, complete with ridiculous powers and eccentric personalities. There were a lot of different themed groups. I was traveling with a pale, sharp-faced Russian colonel (who spoke with a British accent) and a steampunk gentleman. Our super villain gang was called The Military Industrial Complex.
After breaking into Batman's rec room, we all started to fight noisily. Batman didn't show up. After a while we stopped, disappointed. Then somebody said, "Wait, I have his cell phone number. I'll let him know we're here."
We waited patiently while he called Batman. After a while Batman showed up. He was an older, more tired Batman. He was in costume, but somehow I knew that underneath it he had gray hair. He started kicking everybody's asses for messing up his rec room. Everyone was so happy that he had arrived.
Just then I realized that I had forgotten my costume back at my house. I frantically ran back home to go change.
But by the time I came back the fight was over. I'd missed the best part. It was like showing up to a party after everyone had gotten too drunk and were starting to filter home. Most of my companions had departed. Reedie super villains loitered in the street, lounged in dilapidated cars and made out sloppily.
I bitterly sat on Batman's deck. Eventually he came out of the house and sat across from me. He wasn't in costume, but he also wasn't Bruce Wayne. He was still Batman.
"Hey," he said, "I'm sorry you missed the fight. Let's go get some food instead. We should talk about the future,"
And I said, "Okay."