Closing in
I had a dream with an almost BSG plot line running behind everything.
Robots were trying to kill humanity. Not just robots - it was a coalition of robots and humans but mainly robots. The robots had cylindrical bodies, arms and legs as one would expect, a spherical head that extended into a cone on top, like a shiny dunce cap.
I was at a gas station when the explosions began. I found shelter in a Radio Shack and watched everything burn from the store front. The main human who was working with the robots to kill everyone off was in love with me. Somehow he knew where I was and I was taken from the Radio Shack to one of their air ships shortly before it was burnt. The memory gets fuzzy here.
Somehow I got away and made it to a safe house with human refugees, one of whom I was in love with. He had something to do with getting me to safety.
But then the house started burning. Looking out into the hallway, I saw robots filing down the hallway, their heads engulfed in flames that were spreading quickly. For some reason I looked away from the hallway and the robots and looked into the mirror that was in the room. My hair had been cut short again and was turning white. I touched my hair and found that it wasn't naturally white. It was paint, enamel, so that when I tried to pull some away it stretched as it came off, like rubber.
I ran into the hallway. Somehow the robots were gone now, but the house was still burning and I knew that I had to find the man I loved. I found him, dying in the bathtub, bleeding from a wound I couldn't see. His younger brother, maybe 4 years old, was crying next to me with a sheet of paper in his hand. I never saw it but I knew that the sheet of paper belonged to the man I loved, that it was a poem he had written, and that it was important. This little boy and the poem had to survive. That's all that was important to me at the time.
I grabbed the little boy and ran into a room closeby where there was an open skylight. There was a helicopter waiting on the roof to get us away. The helicopter came under attack and had to get away. Hanging from a pipe on the ceiling, I got the little boy out but couldn't get myself out in time. The house started burning faster as I tried to get out of the skylight.
Then I woke up.
I don't have a week full of dreams every few months like I used to, but when I do have them they are extremely vivid.
Robots were trying to kill humanity. Not just robots - it was a coalition of robots and humans but mainly robots. The robots had cylindrical bodies, arms and legs as one would expect, a spherical head that extended into a cone on top, like a shiny dunce cap.
I was at a gas station when the explosions began. I found shelter in a Radio Shack and watched everything burn from the store front. The main human who was working with the robots to kill everyone off was in love with me. Somehow he knew where I was and I was taken from the Radio Shack to one of their air ships shortly before it was burnt. The memory gets fuzzy here.
Somehow I got away and made it to a safe house with human refugees, one of whom I was in love with. He had something to do with getting me to safety.
But then the house started burning. Looking out into the hallway, I saw robots filing down the hallway, their heads engulfed in flames that were spreading quickly. For some reason I looked away from the hallway and the robots and looked into the mirror that was in the room. My hair had been cut short again and was turning white. I touched my hair and found that it wasn't naturally white. It was paint, enamel, so that when I tried to pull some away it stretched as it came off, like rubber.
I ran into the hallway. Somehow the robots were gone now, but the house was still burning and I knew that I had to find the man I loved. I found him, dying in the bathtub, bleeding from a wound I couldn't see. His younger brother, maybe 4 years old, was crying next to me with a sheet of paper in his hand. I never saw it but I knew that the sheet of paper belonged to the man I loved, that it was a poem he had written, and that it was important. This little boy and the poem had to survive. That's all that was important to me at the time.
I grabbed the little boy and ran into a room closeby where there was an open skylight. There was a helicopter waiting on the roof to get us away. The helicopter came under attack and had to get away. Hanging from a pipe on the ceiling, I got the little boy out but couldn't get myself out in time. The house started burning faster as I tried to get out of the skylight.
Then I woke up.
I don't have a week full of dreams every few months like I used to, but when I do have them they are extremely vivid.