God of Thunder and Rock'n'Roll (archmage) wrote,
God of Thunder and Rock'n'Roll

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Up WAY, WAY, WAY too early. Long morning of playing CoH, followed by passing out at 2...up at 3 to phone call, back down, up at 5, following possibly the strangest dream I've had in a long time, and those of you who know what my dreams are like know that means it was truly bizarre.

Seems to have started with my being at a table, surrounded by lockers, and realizing that my time in this place was almost at an end. A day or two left, maybe, something like that, and so I decided I had to clean out my area, my desk. Time passed as I packed and stacked things, sometimes giving small items to the guy next to me, sometimes realizing that I'd have to come back tomorrow with a box. Took quite a while as I packed things up (lot of stickers, oddly), and just as I got done, I turned and opened a closet, which was just full of my stuff. I sighed and realized it would have to wait until the next day, and Dianna and I picked up what we could and got moving. We ended up on a bus with plenty of other people, it was the middle of the day, and it looked like we were going through a downtown-kinda area, reminded me of parts of Portland or New Orleans; cobblestone or brick streets, older buildings, etc. the bus had a glass-and-steel top, and lots of light was coming in. Eventually I got off, and tried carrying all this crap with me, which was heavy and unwieldy. Somewhere in here it gets hazy for a bit, but I ended up in a dirty, dingy back yard, wet like it had been raining, stuff around like a place gets after a long time of use, things everywhere. Someone was introducing me to their associates, a motley group of misfits. Most notably was some kid, B K Something-or-other, and he kept spraying me with some small, high-pressure bottle. I kinda faced off against him, both of us just watching the other. He was a dirty blond, skinny kid, his hair is spikes, wearing a baggy shirt and basketball shorts. Eventually, I walked away, he sprayed me one more time, and I turned, lashing out with a martial-arts style sidekick, catching his hand, knocking the sprayer away. The guy that was talking this whole time climbed into a Formula One car, red, and next to it was another car, with a trailer behind it, full of people and stuff. I knew that I'd helped work on this new car, and it was freakin' scary-fast. There was a countdown and a shouted "GO", and the cars took off. The trailer swung wide, something fell out, I grabbed it and turned to others there with me, saying it was OK, we could go ahead and set this piece up, but the main area of the yard was rotating, and we decided it was a bad idea. Our car was ahead at the first major checkpoint, and the smarmy asshole in the F1 car mentioned it only being 10% ahead, he wasn't worried. On and on the trace went, I sometimes followed it form a bird's eye POV, dunno how. At one point, I saw a wavering image like a bad TV, of the asshole standing up in his moving F1 car, posing down, as if to imply that he was ahead, except that he wasn't, that I knew of. Maybe he was, who knows. Anyway, eventually he and his buddies (They were dressed in identical dark-blue and gold suits) were sitting around a table, relaxing, as our car shot ahead and was going to win. they seemed perturbed by this, as if it never dawned on them that stopping the car and getting out to have a drink was a bad idea.

This is about where I woke up.

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