WhyAmINaked

I dream of a really beautiful, tropical paradise, like the Hawaii scenery you'd see on postcards. The beach is perfect, and there is exotic fauna and grassy fields. Off in the distance I can see clear skies over sapphire-blue oceans. The ends of two islands frame the edge of my view, and they are equally lush and picturesque; but I know I'm on the "main" island where everyone wants to be. The colors in this world are way to crisp and vivid to possibly exist, like someone is drunk while playing with Photoshop.

I turn around, and there is a cliff/overhang that has the sun peaking through the top. A stream and pool bubbles at the bottom, and there is a small waterfall. I had to wade through some relatively thick foliage to get through to the edge of the pool, which is an emerald green. A path has already been made in the foliage to reach it. The sunbeam perfectly illuminates a set of wooden stairs that's built into the cliff, and I notice that the moisture gives the rocky walls a nice little glisten.

I walk up the stairs, and after reaching the top of the cliff, I am now on Woburn street, across the street from my friend P's house and next to the Haggen's grocery store. This is not at all an accurate map of my old home town. I turn around, and the cliff is gone, though I'm back on the same level as the grass area of the beach. It is now more of a park now, and I can see people playing. In the middle of the field is an asphalt basketball court, and my friend E is playing on it. I jog over to join him, but the dream fades before I could reach the court.

Dream two got pretty fun! I'm in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, but the people have regrouped to a Victorian steampunk setting. It's a clear, sunny and beautiful day, because I'm zipping around in my own goddammned-right-it's-an airship! The airships in the world comes in all shapes and sizes, and seem to be relatively common. I also know being in the air is much more preferable than living in the surface, because the surface is a harsh world of destruction and mutant monsters.

My gear seems to be inspired by WWI pilots. I know I have a scarf and goggles on, and I have what appears to be a bomber jacket. I also have two belts around my waist: one is around the belt loops of my pants, and carries some light gear, while another one hangs off it and holsters a Wild West-styled six-shooter, only I know it fires lasers in a shotgun-like spread that resemble golden needles despite me not once using it in my dream. I also have a large object strapped on my back with a handle, so I assume it's a thing I use to smash jerks who got into melee range; because that totally is common in aerial dogfights.

ANYWAYS, the airship I pilot is unique in that I operate it like a motorcycle, and is custom made by -- oh yes -- Nikola Tesla (David Bowie version) himself. First, in this world, Tesla is also kind of my employer/dispatcher, and I receive jobs from him via a communicator like the one Mr. House uses in Fallout. Second, when I realize that Tesla designed my airship, the balloon part of my ship gets damaged; I'm not sure if it's a malfunction, or did someone shoot me, but either way, I say something lame to the effects of "time for plan B!" and transform my ship into an electric hovercraft like the ones used in The Matrix, complete with the electric coils. The ship is supported in the air by the electricity that ropes out, and my ship "swings" from these beams. I dive down towards the surface because NOW I'm sure I am being chased, but this sequence fades as I'm diving.

In my heart of hearts, I like to think my dream self is being challenged by my Thomas Edison-supported rival in a race across the world, and the ensuing awesome can't be comprehended until I shed my physical form.