Lucid Dreaming.
The term conjures images of dreaming in Cinemascope. Technicolour. Amazingly vivid and real, photoreal. Touch and feel real. And it is rare that I remember having these dreams. Or any dreams for that matter.
Now and again I have a few disturbing dreams about work, but it usually results in me bashing Mark in my sleep so that he walks around with a sore face for a few days and can’t figure out why. Sorry, hun.
Last night’s dream though has me stumped. I dreamed that I was en route to our local shopping centre. At the head of a giant army. And not just any old army. Futuristic armies straight out of the Warhammer world, complete with Space Marines, Inquisitors and Sisters of Battle. Including the guns, the weapons, the vehicles, the chatter in my head. All of it. Like some bizarre Saving Private Ryan, only grittier and noisier and me in charge.
Now this would be an understandable dream had I anything to do with Warhammer. I don’t. Admittedly FG has the new Dark Heresy RPG book which he’s been reading through. I’ve not even opened the front covers to look at it. He plays some of it on his computer and PSP and I’ve not played or seen either.
This however did not stop me from taking over the Glades Shopping Centre in Bromley as my army base and shooting the crap out of insurgent aliens in the form of orkz, tyranids and whatever else my fevered imagination could come up with.
I woke up this morning, utterly exhausted. Directing an army is incredibly tiring work. Who knew? Needless to say Bromley town centre does not exist anymore. I’ve shot it to shit and levelled it with so many bombs even bugs would not survive it.
Can anyone please explain to me…why Warhammer and why Bromley? Maybe Croydon, or Birmingham is worthy of levelling, but Bromley?? And why was I this seriously important Space Marine Commander who had the entire army under my command? I know I like being a bossy cow, but this is taking it a bit far.
But I had a really cool gun. A big one. Samaritan sized which would have made Hellboy sob into his cat litter.
Lucid dreaming. Seriously disturbing shyte.
The term conjures images of dreaming in Cinemascope. Technicolour. Amazingly vivid and real, photoreal. Touch and feel real. And it is rare that I remember having these dreams. Or any dreams for that matter.
Now and again I have a few disturbing dreams about work, but it usually results in me bashing Mark in my sleep so that he walks around with a sore face for a few days and can’t figure out why. Sorry, hun.
Last night’s dream though has me stumped. I dreamed that I was en route to our local shopping centre. At the head of a giant army. And not just any old army. Futuristic armies straight out of the Warhammer world, complete with Space Marines, Inquisitors and Sisters of Battle. Including the guns, the weapons, the vehicles, the chatter in my head. All of it. Like some bizarre Saving Private Ryan, only grittier and noisier and me in charge.
Now this would be an understandable dream had I anything to do with Warhammer. I don’t. Admittedly FG has the new Dark Heresy RPG book which he’s been reading through. I’ve not even opened the front covers to look at it. He plays some of it on his computer and PSP and I’ve not played or seen either.
This however did not stop me from taking over the Glades Shopping Centre in Bromley as my army base and shooting the crap out of insurgent aliens in the form of orkz, tyranids and whatever else my fevered imagination could come up with.
I woke up this morning, utterly exhausted. Directing an army is incredibly tiring work. Who knew? Needless to say Bromley town centre does not exist anymore. I’ve shot it to shit and levelled it with so many bombs even bugs would not survive it.
Can anyone please explain to me…why Warhammer and why Bromley? Maybe Croydon, or Birmingham is worthy of levelling, but Bromley?? And why was I this seriously important Space Marine Commander who had the entire army under my command? I know I like being a bossy cow, but this is taking it a bit far.
But I had a really cool gun. A big one. Samaritan sized which would have made Hellboy sob into his cat litter.
Lucid dreaming. Seriously disturbing shyte.
1 comment:
Sure you didn't tap into the Gecko's subconcious by mistake, babe? The detail is fairly impressive.
Mind you, my everyday dreams are that detailed, so you can imagine what the nightmares are like(!). Which is why I avoid them at all costs.
Should definitely have been Croydon, though. Just so you know for next time.
Will write properly soon, but am swamped in the midst of the PRWeek Power Book at present...
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