My BRAIN! Seriously!
Okay. So last night I didn't do anything that I could consider being dream fodder for this one. It was crazy. I have these very detailed weird dreams. Sometimes I share them. Sometimes I share them with very few people because they're embarrassing. And some people will NEVER hear them.
Last night I dreamed I was living in this big old house in the country, in an idyllic winter wonderland setting. There was a big pond out back. There were a number of people living in the house with me, including Knight and Mr. Mercutio. There were women too, but I can't remember exactly who was there. So, for some reason we got an exchange student from Russia, I think. Beautiful girl, lithe, long dark hair, huge grey eyes. Her English was shaky, but well enough. She had some odd mannerisms that I put down to culture shock. Like, she'd sit for a while outside in the middle of a field and look like she's listening for something far away.
Meanwhile, the perspective changes to hers. I think she gave her name as Rivka or something. Doesn't matter; her real name is unpronounceable to human tongues. She's mentally going through the circuits implanted in her physiology, and making sure the disguise doesn't waver. Then she's checking the locator circuits to check for food. This was the perfect place to steer the crashing ship (shields functional, chameleon device on), as that pond out there is chock full of frogs. Meter goes up, reads: COLOSSAL. Brief vision: her natural form, 13 feet tall, bloated grey humanoid figure, wide wide mouth, lots of teeth, row of beady eyes. Very fat and happy. Will have to find way to get dinner and not around humans. Suspicious. Think it's a Russian thing. Good ship translators and brief history logs absorbed. Good choice.
The perspective goes back to mine, and is a bit more coherent. Rivka was standing in the living room, sort of hopping from one foot to the other. Then she sidled out of the room, and I have this idea that she should go do whatever she needs to do. So I let her. When she's out of the house I shake it off, grab Knight who was just passing in the hallway, and we go outside in the snow.
We find Rivka at the edge of the pond, with some sort of gadget strapped to her wrist. She's pounding on it, trying to make it work. We approach her slowly, and get her to talk. Mostly Knight does a lot of talking; he has a knack of getting people to tell exactly what they're feeling, even if they have every intention of hiding it. She finally explodes with: "Because I am not human and I am hungry!" and breaks down crying this grey sludge. I pat her on the shoulder and say, "We can help you, you know. We're a lot more experienced with frozen ponds in Canada. And if you really were Russian, so would you, but you're not." Then Knight pipes up with "Are you going to try for world domination? Either you or your kind?" She looks sheepish, confesses she thought about it, but we were nice and not like the stupid humans she'd read about. I wisely kept my opinions about the intelligence of the vast majority of the human race to myself. We asked more questions: do the frogs have to be alive or dead? Can they be cooked? How many does she need in a day to sustain herself? Answers: preferably alive, but can deal with dead. Never tried cooked; what's it like? (followed by a discussion about breading and deep-frying) One will suffice. So we won't overfish our pond, and if need be, the French butcher is available. Then we went in from the snow, because it was friggin' freezing.
There was also something about a frog trap, that looked like a miniature winter sleigh, driven by a woman in a white and blue parka with sled dogs. I don't know.
Then I woke up hating my brain, and still couldn't quite shake off the sleep paralysis. After tea and typing, a nerve in my leg finally stopped twitching. ARG!
Last night I dreamed I was living in this big old house in the country, in an idyllic winter wonderland setting. There was a big pond out back. There were a number of people living in the house with me, including Knight and Mr. Mercutio. There were women too, but I can't remember exactly who was there. So, for some reason we got an exchange student from Russia, I think. Beautiful girl, lithe, long dark hair, huge grey eyes. Her English was shaky, but well enough. She had some odd mannerisms that I put down to culture shock. Like, she'd sit for a while outside in the middle of a field and look like she's listening for something far away.
Meanwhile, the perspective changes to hers. I think she gave her name as Rivka or something. Doesn't matter; her real name is unpronounceable to human tongues. She's mentally going through the circuits implanted in her physiology, and making sure the disguise doesn't waver. Then she's checking the locator circuits to check for food. This was the perfect place to steer the crashing ship (shields functional, chameleon device on), as that pond out there is chock full of frogs. Meter goes up, reads: COLOSSAL. Brief vision: her natural form, 13 feet tall, bloated grey humanoid figure, wide wide mouth, lots of teeth, row of beady eyes. Very fat and happy. Will have to find way to get dinner and not around humans. Suspicious. Think it's a Russian thing. Good ship translators and brief history logs absorbed. Good choice.
The perspective goes back to mine, and is a bit more coherent. Rivka was standing in the living room, sort of hopping from one foot to the other. Then she sidled out of the room, and I have this idea that she should go do whatever she needs to do. So I let her. When she's out of the house I shake it off, grab Knight who was just passing in the hallway, and we go outside in the snow.
We find Rivka at the edge of the pond, with some sort of gadget strapped to her wrist. She's pounding on it, trying to make it work. We approach her slowly, and get her to talk. Mostly Knight does a lot of talking; he has a knack of getting people to tell exactly what they're feeling, even if they have every intention of hiding it. She finally explodes with: "Because I am not human and I am hungry!" and breaks down crying this grey sludge. I pat her on the shoulder and say, "We can help you, you know. We're a lot more experienced with frozen ponds in Canada. And if you really were Russian, so would you, but you're not." Then Knight pipes up with "Are you going to try for world domination? Either you or your kind?" She looks sheepish, confesses she thought about it, but we were nice and not like the stupid humans she'd read about. I wisely kept my opinions about the intelligence of the vast majority of the human race to myself. We asked more questions: do the frogs have to be alive or dead? Can they be cooked? How many does she need in a day to sustain herself? Answers: preferably alive, but can deal with dead. Never tried cooked; what's it like? (followed by a discussion about breading and deep-frying) One will suffice. So we won't overfish our pond, and if need be, the French butcher is available. Then we went in from the snow, because it was friggin' freezing.
There was also something about a frog trap, that looked like a miniature winter sleigh, driven by a woman in a white and blue parka with sled dogs. I don't know.
Then I woke up hating my brain, and still couldn't quite shake off the sleep paralysis. After tea and typing, a nerve in my leg finally stopped twitching. ARG!