(no subject)
It started out in a kind of industrial corporate setting, A few skyscrapers and some cement parking structures, all in monochrome. I was driving some sort of vehicle -- think the automobile's great great grandchild. I was still reeling from my previous dream.
I pulled over and looked around -- the whole area was empty. It was all very steel and glass, corporate, grey everywhere -- everything looked wet like it had just rained. I was carrying a case, which I didn't open yet. Everything was very Ghost In the Shell. In fact I knew, somehow, that I was an insurgent of some kind, sent perhaps by one political entity to the current setting which was under the dominion of another.
Things fast forwarded for me, going through the motions on autopilot like skipping to the next scene in a movie. I was in a kind of plaza -- same general area, this spot had previously been obscured from my view by a building. My vision was still monochrome, and everything was a shade of grey. I was surrounded by other people -- some walking past the plaza and some stopping to wait in it. A security officer of some sort, looking the equivalent of an undercover cop, was sifting through the waiting crowd. It became obvious that those of us who were waiting were intending to depart for somewhere.
As I was amidst those people, the security fellow approached me as well. I opened my coat to reveal a large number of knives strapped to my chest and a large pistol sidearm, automatic as far as I could tell. He took the sidearm and a long accompanying clip, without any fuss -- I expected it -- and gave the knives no second thought. I guess the current weapons technology probably made them look useless. I closed my coat and no one else had time to take an interest in the knives. Being mostly unaware of the plot into which my brain had thrust me, I nevertheless surmised that their real purpose was to create scratches the nanomites were capable of penetrating in whatever surfaces necessary. The blades were of varying hardness and seemed suited for this use, yet unobtrusive enough to avoid issue.
I brought the case up on my knee, reminiscent of holding my trumpet case the same way years ago. It was grey like everything else, though dull, indicating perhaps the presence of a layer of dust. I turned it around and opened it casually, still drawing little attention. Inside were all variety of brushes, of varying soft/coarseness. Each sat in its own grooved spot pristinely clean. I chose one that was quite soft. Imagine a loop of leather, no larger than a bracelet. On this loop are several white leather shapes [think exactly like chex mix or crispix, but a little larger, around the size of a quarter.] The specifics of how they were attached did not catch my notice. Though white, they had a muted quality to them, like everything else in the dream.
I closed the case, and using the leather piece I began to brush at one side of it, gently. Dust seemed to billow off of the case to each side as I brushed, the leather beneath becoming visible as no longer grey, but a very pristine white. The dust itself was not dust, I understood, but a cloud of nanomachines that had been embedded undetectably into the surface of the case. I was freeing them into the air and they were billowing out unnoticed into the damp, misty air of the plaza, gathering information and who knows what else.
A passerby caught my notice -- I recognized my Uncle John, from real life, though I do not think he was meant to be the same person in this dream. His clothes were similar to mine, and he also carried a case of the same size. However, because he was walking past and not waiting as I was, he was not subject to the attentions of the security official. He saw the 'dust' clouding out -- he of course knew to look for it.
Stepping close to me he asked, "are you dirtying the air we breath and being a nuisance to those who keep this peace, or do you labor perhaps to save something from this drab existence -- the butterflies."
[The conversation was very symbolic and strange]
He continued, "man's current concern with terrorist factions and revolutions is so missplaced, as things of tiniest size and colossal importance like the last of the butterflies and the life around us are lost. Are you, too, willing to do what is necessary to preserve them?"
Although it was all code-speak and pre-arranged, it still struck me as meaningful at the time, perhaps it was just his delivery, and our surroundings.
[Keep in mind this does not refer to the terrorist nonsense of contemporary news, but the political matters in the context of the dream, which I had mentioned previously. Political entities in this setting were more like large corporations that controlled cities. I was just one agent in one section, working for one 'Country' as an undercover agent.]
I went on to reply in a suitable way, and we spoke for another minute or two, whilst subtly exchanging cases. No one had noticed how pristine the side of my old case had become, and we switched the two without problem. He began to move away, as I turned to see the Three approaching.
Three women by silhouette, their humanity was dubious because they were almost assuredly more cyborg than biological. They played the role of enforcers and ultimate authority for the current city-state in which I was standing, because none of us were all that aware of who could really control them, though I was aware of their superiors. For the most part the populace stayed out of their way and offered them no trouble, as much out of ignorance as out of fear.
They approached, walking in close triangle formation not so much intentionally as reflexively.
[Think of the Agents from the matrix, but much cooler, hotter, and more dangerous. Not code, but cyborg]
-this paragraph is confusing as it deals with meta-description-
Although it would have appeared to the 'environmental camera,' as it were -- keep in mind large parts of my dreams, this one no exception, are actually viewed by me from the role of a camera observer rather than 1st person -- events were unfolding that would not have been visible directly to me. Uncle John, I'll call him, was moving away through the crowd, and I was stepping back to my spot in the plaza calmly. The Three moved toward me and raised their weapons but as I moved out of the way [I was seeing them fire directly toward me, the observer, as the camera panned back] it became clear they were shooting the security officer, who was previously not in view.
-weird, right?-
I was able to gather that the nanomites I had released into the air had been detected and the security officer was blamed and summarily dealt with. They still did not know who was involved, however.
The Three kept moving without breaking pace and two of them seemed to disappear, moving out to flank the first, who entered a glass elevator. As the elevator began to rise, a reporter had entered and began asking her apparently aggravating or sensitive questions about what had just happened on the crowded street. He was perhaps the only person to visibly take notice.
I watched as She drew a sidearm from her coat -- it was almost like a loose sport coat, but not at all as unnattractive as the concept of a loose sportcoat sounds -- and shot the reporter in the face, knocking his body through the wall of the elevator from about 3 stories up. Then She jumped out through the open wall of the elevator and out of sight. I guess the Three did not have much patience for the mundane matters of the general populace.
After that I woke up.
I'm sure I forgot little bits or missed things, so it may come off as incomplete. Sorry.
I am up entirely too early.
I pulled over and looked around -- the whole area was empty. It was all very steel and glass, corporate, grey everywhere -- everything looked wet like it had just rained. I was carrying a case, which I didn't open yet. Everything was very Ghost In the Shell. In fact I knew, somehow, that I was an insurgent of some kind, sent perhaps by one political entity to the current setting which was under the dominion of another.
Things fast forwarded for me, going through the motions on autopilot like skipping to the next scene in a movie. I was in a kind of plaza -- same general area, this spot had previously been obscured from my view by a building. My vision was still monochrome, and everything was a shade of grey. I was surrounded by other people -- some walking past the plaza and some stopping to wait in it. A security officer of some sort, looking the equivalent of an undercover cop, was sifting through the waiting crowd. It became obvious that those of us who were waiting were intending to depart for somewhere.
As I was amidst those people, the security fellow approached me as well. I opened my coat to reveal a large number of knives strapped to my chest and a large pistol sidearm, automatic as far as I could tell. He took the sidearm and a long accompanying clip, without any fuss -- I expected it -- and gave the knives no second thought. I guess the current weapons technology probably made them look useless. I closed my coat and no one else had time to take an interest in the knives. Being mostly unaware of the plot into which my brain had thrust me, I nevertheless surmised that their real purpose was to create scratches the nanomites were capable of penetrating in whatever surfaces necessary. The blades were of varying hardness and seemed suited for this use, yet unobtrusive enough to avoid issue.
I brought the case up on my knee, reminiscent of holding my trumpet case the same way years ago. It was grey like everything else, though dull, indicating perhaps the presence of a layer of dust. I turned it around and opened it casually, still drawing little attention. Inside were all variety of brushes, of varying soft/coarseness. Each sat in its own grooved spot pristinely clean. I chose one that was quite soft. Imagine a loop of leather, no larger than a bracelet. On this loop are several white leather shapes [think exactly like chex mix or crispix, but a little larger, around the size of a quarter.] The specifics of how they were attached did not catch my notice. Though white, they had a muted quality to them, like everything else in the dream.
I closed the case, and using the leather piece I began to brush at one side of it, gently. Dust seemed to billow off of the case to each side as I brushed, the leather beneath becoming visible as no longer grey, but a very pristine white. The dust itself was not dust, I understood, but a cloud of nanomachines that had been embedded undetectably into the surface of the case. I was freeing them into the air and they were billowing out unnoticed into the damp, misty air of the plaza, gathering information and who knows what else.
A passerby caught my notice -- I recognized my Uncle John, from real life, though I do not think he was meant to be the same person in this dream. His clothes were similar to mine, and he also carried a case of the same size. However, because he was walking past and not waiting as I was, he was not subject to the attentions of the security official. He saw the 'dust' clouding out -- he of course knew to look for it.
Stepping close to me he asked, "are you dirtying the air we breath and being a nuisance to those who keep this peace, or do you labor perhaps to save something from this drab existence -- the butterflies."
[The conversation was very symbolic and strange]
He continued, "man's current concern with terrorist factions and revolutions is so missplaced, as things of tiniest size and colossal importance like the last of the butterflies and the life around us are lost. Are you, too, willing to do what is necessary to preserve them?"
Although it was all code-speak and pre-arranged, it still struck me as meaningful at the time, perhaps it was just his delivery, and our surroundings.
[Keep in mind this does not refer to the terrorist nonsense of contemporary news, but the political matters in the context of the dream, which I had mentioned previously. Political entities in this setting were more like large corporations that controlled cities. I was just one agent in one section, working for one 'Country' as an undercover agent.]
I went on to reply in a suitable way, and we spoke for another minute or two, whilst subtly exchanging cases. No one had noticed how pristine the side of my old case had become, and we switched the two without problem. He began to move away, as I turned to see the Three approaching.
Three women by silhouette, their humanity was dubious because they were almost assuredly more cyborg than biological. They played the role of enforcers and ultimate authority for the current city-state in which I was standing, because none of us were all that aware of who could really control them, though I was aware of their superiors. For the most part the populace stayed out of their way and offered them no trouble, as much out of ignorance as out of fear.
They approached, walking in close triangle formation not so much intentionally as reflexively.
[Think of the Agents from the matrix, but much cooler, hotter, and more dangerous. Not code, but cyborg]
-this paragraph is confusing as it deals with meta-description-
Although it would have appeared to the 'environmental camera,' as it were -- keep in mind large parts of my dreams, this one no exception, are actually viewed by me from the role of a camera observer rather than 1st person -- events were unfolding that would not have been visible directly to me. Uncle John, I'll call him, was moving away through the crowd, and I was stepping back to my spot in the plaza calmly. The Three moved toward me and raised their weapons but as I moved out of the way [I was seeing them fire directly toward me, the observer, as the camera panned back] it became clear they were shooting the security officer, who was previously not in view.
-weird, right?-
I was able to gather that the nanomites I had released into the air had been detected and the security officer was blamed and summarily dealt with. They still did not know who was involved, however.
The Three kept moving without breaking pace and two of them seemed to disappear, moving out to flank the first, who entered a glass elevator. As the elevator began to rise, a reporter had entered and began asking her apparently aggravating or sensitive questions about what had just happened on the crowded street. He was perhaps the only person to visibly take notice.
I watched as She drew a sidearm from her coat -- it was almost like a loose sport coat, but not at all as unnattractive as the concept of a loose sportcoat sounds -- and shot the reporter in the face, knocking his body through the wall of the elevator from about 3 stories up. Then She jumped out through the open wall of the elevator and out of sight. I guess the Three did not have much patience for the mundane matters of the general populace.
After that I woke up.
I'm sure I forgot little bits or missed things, so it may come off as incomplete. Sorry.
I am up entirely too early.