4/18/08 "Rambo Rocks. Hard. Rock Hard."

[Man of Steel]

Rambo Rocks. Hard. Rock Hard. Saturday afternoon, April 19th, 2008 I had a dream which would make Oneironaut proud! I dreamed I was Rambo, from the new Rambo movie. This was probably one of the bloodiest dreams I've ever had, it was great. The dream was in a particular color scheme [Note: Remember to post about it in Howie's Color Quiz thread on DV] that consisted of a gritty, nearly duotone videography style, very vivid and dirty. As it started, I was Rambo, trying to protect some missionaries until they reached the border of Burma. Pretty much exactly like the movie, which I haven't even seen yet. We were set upon by various enemies wielding various weaponry, but I had this freaking huge helicopter-mounted machine gun that I had ripped from its mount and was carrying, belt slung off one hip. They didn't stand a chance as the gun ripped through them like paper maché. Blood flew everywhere as the rounds from this massive gun tore through their flesh, leaving holes big enough to put your fist through. We were wading through swampy ponds a lot, and at one point guerrillas ambushed us from underneath the water, but that was no problem, as the machine gun cut right into the water and rendered them floating bodies. I eventually ran out of ammo, and decided maybe stealth would be a better option for a bit. So I unsheathed my trusty combat knife [Not the one from the movie this time, but rather a bit smaller.] and used it to slash throats, throw into enemies' necks, and generally cause bloody mayhem wherever I passed. This was an extremely vivid dream, and the colors remained that gritty duotone. I was at once both Rambo, in first person and watching from a third person perspective. Sometimes it would switch perspectives at key moments. At one point I remember coming up behind a guard, then he evidently heard me, and started to turn about with a look of outright fear on his face, and I just viciously raised my knife and slashed it across his throat. His head lolled back, no longer supported, and blood shot in a huge fountain, spraying all over me and the forest around us. A bit later on, we came to a broad expanse of shallow water. I left the missionaries at the edge, then went ahead out into the water to scout out things. Something felt fishy, no pun intended. I got out just a bit, and this quite large white guy, evidently a hired mercenary sent to deal with me, showed himself, beckoned to me with his combat knife, then came at me. He obviously knew what he was doing, so I didn't hesitate. As he closed with me, I threw my knife into his thigh, then ducked under his swing and rocked it back out of his leg and went on the defense momentarily. We fought our way out into the water, rough and tumble, neither wanting to give ground but being pressed back. At times each of us had the upper hand, but I started to prevail before long as I figured him out. The guy was good, I'll give him that. But he was still no match for me. I was cutting him up left and right, with only a few wounds of my own. The fighting was fast, and vicious. There were no holds barred, no cuts too low. He stuck his blade into my upper arm/shoulder, but I just pulled it out and slashed across his chest with it before tossing it back to him, beckoning him on. I was grinning fiercely by now, enjoying the fight. He came at me again, and I drove him back, cutting his thigh and neck. He staggered away, seemingly hurt, but came back for more. He was persistent, and just wouldn't give up. This is where it really got bloody. He had two knives by now somehow, I think he'd pulled another one from a sheath at his back or somewhere, so I took one from him with a swift maneuver and did a quick one-two-three number on him. First slashing across his chest deeply, sending blood flying, then a deep slash to the throat, which sent blood spouting at least ten feet into the air, and knocked his chin up as my fist contacted it, then while he was still moving from his own inertia, a hard stab just above and to the right of the heart, burying my blade deep into his chest. He staggered away, mortally wounded and barely still alive. He kept staggering, still pumping blood from his wounds. Then, in a strange twist of fate, he pulled the knife from his chest [Or it may have been another, I'm not sure. I think it was his, actually, not mine. A black-coated combat knife, similar to a Chris Reeve one-piece.] and threw it underhand and backhand behind himself and right into the muscles of my left thigh, with a satisfied smirk on his face. The knife stuck true, and buried itself deep into my leg. This was bad, as I couldn't move my left leg at all; it had locked up completely due to the placement of the knife. The blade had severed the muscles that controlled that leg, and it felt like a solid lead block now. I heard something, a motor, and looked up, to find that I was in deep trouble. A huge passenger boat was headed straight for me, with a deck full of drinking, carousing partygoers. It bore down on me, never veering from its course, never slowing a bit, and the mercenary smirked snidely as he collapsed dead, knowing that he caused my demise as his last act. I took it like a man, because Rambo isn't afraid to die. It was a good day to die. [I saw the boat closing from a third person view, and at one point it seemed as if it was coming from behind me, but I'd seen it in front of me too. Not sure what was up with that. Maybe just the dream fading as my certain doom drew near.] The dream faded just before the boat mowed me down. ~|~|~|~|~|~|~

[Sean999]

Cool dream, MoS! You tell your dreams a lot better than I do, I should work on my strory telling skills.

[Oneironaut Zero]

NIIIIIIICE! Completely badass, dream, and very well told. That was one hell of a knife fight! I could just picture Rambo walking around with a vulcan cannon ripped off of a helicopter, too. Hahaha. Awesome.

[Man of Steel]

Cool dream, MoS! You tell your dreams a lot better than I do, I should work on my strory telling skills. Thanks, Sean! I went through that dream multiple times, fleshing it out as I remembered stuff. NIIIIIIICE! Completely badass, dream, and very well told. That was one hell of a knife fight! I could just picture Rambo walking around with a vulcan cannon ripped off of a helicopter, too. Hahaha. Awesome. Thankee, O! Yeah, it was pretty damn amazing being there. I just had another dream where I was Sly today, too. I was being chased by a mad Billy Zane.