RobotGymnast

I was just back from Switzerland, and my mother asked me if I still knew where my (cell) phone was. Yes, I did, it was in my room, plugged in. I went into my room, and found it plugged in, but on the floor, so I shuffled around some cables and put it on my desk. I had one text message. I thought to myself how sad it was that, in three weeks, I’d gotten one text message. It was from a friend of mine, Bernard, who probably needed my Chem notes.

Then I was on a bus, going to a mall in a nearby town. I noticed a ton of people I know (and a ton I don’t) sitting near the mall. One (whom I know) caught my attention, “Hey Ben; do you know how to get to Clark’s house?” Clark is a friend of mine, with whom everybody associates me. Yes, I knew how to get to his house, but it sounded rather implied that I would be going, which I didn’t want to do. I gave directions “Go down to [street], turn left until [street]. It’s number 162.” This got repeated a few times, when I noticed Clark nearby, with a bag of weed. I approached him, and he began laughing hysterically, “That was a cop car that just passed by.” It passed by again. He began desperately trying to do something (?) with his weed. It passed by again and stopped.

The cops were a little sarcastic and wise-assy, but they took his weed. I ended up leading into a conversation about how cops have to do even less in Switzerland, since nobody really cares if you roll cigarettes, smoke weed, or whatever the hell else you do there. They took his weed, and gave him a choice: “If you want, we can do this the normal way. But if you swear never to smoke weed again, we’re done here. If I catch you, though, I’ll stab you.” It seemed like he’d accepted the “normal” path, because he tried desperately to regain his weed (grabbing is not a good idea).

He still had 19 credits (which, apparently, is his currency with his dealers) left over. He jumped in a pool of water (god knows why), and his credits went down to 0 (I had a helpful little counter in the bottom-right of my vision). One of the cops pointed this out – apparently credits are water-soluble.

A satanic-looking giant baby terrorizing a city, sucking up energy from citizens, while several other abominations lurk in the background. I was tweety bird, who also had the ability to sap energy. Entering the city, I began attacking one such terrorizing creature, subtly sucking up its energy, from behind a wall. It noticed. I began flying away, trying to avoid its ability to kill me. It was rather powerful, with the ability to teleport, and conjure things (really all kinds of things you don’t want to fight against). I heard a voice in my head, “Now get the apple juice on her, and stab her with a silver knife”.

I was in a small shelter, with conjured, spinning blades coming up towards me from below. I assumed that stabbing her with the silver knife would remove her powers. So I tried it. It worked. Her (for it was definitely a “her”: a middle-aged woman, copper hair, quite pleasant-looking if she weren’t so angrily evil; I imagine there’s a Hansel and Gretel section in my subconscious) powers were gone, now she was just human. She began throwing apples at me, and I, in human form, began catching them, throwing them, and whatnot. Then I realized I could turn in to a bird, and just flew away a little. I brought her to a lightning storm, where she was to be destroyed. But as I waited, she changed, changed into a rather attractive 20 year-old. At this point, I felt bad for killing her (even though it was fairly necessary), so I apologized, and then... woke up?

I was now back in the Chem lab with Bernard. In front of me, a fist-sized jar of liquid, containing some string of beads, and what appeared to be gravel. This was a kind of memory of the fight between myself and the evil entity. I felt it was worth commemorating. I took the slightly-covering lid off, to add something. Clear liquid flowed out onto my fingers. I realized that, if it was a jar of liquid, formaldehyde would make sense (preserving whatever it contained). I smelled it; it smelled vaguely of formaldehyde. I asked Bernard, “Is this formaldehyde?” His answer rang vaguely of formaldehyde. I washed my hands, trying to remember if aldehydes were water-soluble.