Thread: 12/25/2007 - "Sexy Shooter"

This was actually a 3-part dream, so I'll put them all in here.

12/25/2007
Dream One-A:
"Sexy Shooter"

Pretty good dream-chaining, last night, and a very intense dream scenario, throughout.
I was on some college campus. We had been hanging out on one side of the school, when we’d gotten word that, on the other, somebody had gone crazy and went on a shooting spree, killing almost a dozen people before killing himself. After a while, talking of the incident subsided and things returned to normal. A bunch of guys, including JD and Todd, and I were out on the football field, playing some strange mix of football and basketball. They called it rugby, but it definitely wasn’t rugby. As we were playing, and other classes or groups (or whatever) were playing in different parts of this huge, open yard, somebody walked into the field(s). He screamed out some rant about us being spoiled and materialistic - because were obviously going to a very good school – raised an automatic rifle and started firing. Everybody scattered and shots just continued to ring out.

While running, I came to a section of the field that was over-run with trees. The sky had turned gray, and this area was getting muddy very quickly. I found a single, run-down building and, before I knew it, I was walking through it. It was a slum house, and there were dozens of otherwise-homeless families living in there. I ended up walking through the house from one side to the other. It felt like the climax of Children of Men, when the camera follows Clive Owen through the run-down house where the rebels live, only, in this house, there were children all over the place. It was really dirty and disgusting in there, and passing by old people revealed that they were obviously sick with something other than age. Before I’d gotten out, my back started itching like crazy. I could feel whatever was the cause spreading over my back like insects, and it was driving me insane. My only solution was to run outside and drop down on my back, in the mud, to wash of whatever it was that I felt I’d been infected with. It worked, my back stopped itching, and I woke up.

Dream One-B:
I was back in my old neighborhood, hanging out with a bunch of neighborhood kids and who I think was DV member Jeff, at a pool. The kids were doing all kinds of crazy stunts in and out of the water, and showing off. There was a shaft full of water, beside the pool, that we were all looking at, and somebody brought up the idea of going into it to see how deep it is. One of the kids went down in it and came back, after a few minutes. Jeff helped lift him out of the shaft and, even though the kid was gone for some time, he said that the shaft wasn’t very deep at all, which I thought was strange.

Suddenly this really cute Spanish/Black-looking chick walked over to the pool and had a little girl with her. She started making small talk with me and asked if I would watch her daughter for a moment while she went back to her house for something. I agreed and the woman turned and walked away. A couple of minutes later, she came back...holding an assault rifle.

She yelled out something about being a part of the same “group” as the other two school shooters, and that she was here to finish me off, because I should’ve died back in the second attack. She spewed out some shit about Jeff, too, saying that he was in the same “social class” (though I forgot the words she used), and that he needed to die as well. Again, everybody scattered and she opened fire. I started running and weaving through the apartments, trying to stay out of her line of sight. Anytime that I could look back and see her, I could see that she was just walking after me, instead of running, like some ultimate badass stalking her prey. We kept running until I happened to cross paths with a van with a friend of mind in it. She was driving some kids home and I ran to the van, frantically told her what was going on, and we jumped in the back, laying down on the floor so Crazy-Bitch couldn’t see us.

We kept driving to the back of my neighborhood and, passing my old house, I could see my dad standing outside, but he had some sort of car wash facility set up outside the house, and was washing two badass silver ’08 Camaros. I wondered where those cars came from, but I didn’t have time to stop. I had to get to the main road so I could disappear into the woods on the other side, and every minute we stayed in the van was putting her and the kids in the back in danger. We got to the back of my neighborhood and jumped out. We split up and Jeff ran into other neighborhood on the other side of the road. I had to run down the road for a little bit, so I could get to the ditch that lined the woods. As I was running, a car passed me, then hooked a U-turn, crossing the median to come back toward me, but then smashed into the side of a car that was going the opposite way. The shooter jumped out of the car, along with a bunch of goons in black suits, and started coming after me. Ahead, I saw a cop car that was going away from me. I started screaming for him and tried to flag him down. He started to slow down but, just as I got a few feet away from him, he sped up and kept going. Bastard.

I cut to the left, crossed the road, and ran down into the ditch toward the woods. That’s when I woke up. I lay there in bed for a moment, and set the intention to fall back into the same dream, and take the bitch down.

Dream One-C:
I was suddenly standing at the edge of my neighborhood, again. This was apparently before she’d caught up with me, so I risked running back toward my house, which was back toward the way everything had started in, knowing what I planned on doing, but still not lucid. At my house, I grabbed my camera. I wanted proof of what was going on, so I knew I had to catch her on film. As I was about to head back out, I saw her right outside my house, through the huge window in my back door. She had her men with her, and they were still looking for me, having not known that I entered the house. I ducked down in the corner and watched for a minute. She sent her men off in different directions and stood there for a moment. I could see how pissed she was that she couldn’t find me, as she stood there shaking her head. Just as I turned off the flash of my camera and leaned up to take a picture of her holding her assault rifle, she turned and looked in the window, spotting me and grinning. Then she started coming in my direction. I scrambled up to my feet and out of the laundry room, further into the house. I ran immediately into my mom’s old room, reached up into her closet and grabbed her .25 pistol. Just as I cocked it back and checked the chamber, I woke up again.