All right, after weeks of not enough sleep I got a good one. It would be on par with the Chinese Army dream if not for the totally disjointed and perhaps even absent narrative. Allusions galore as usual and now... celebrity cameos? It took place in a gigantic tower.
Part of it was a big, shiny hotel, and the curb in front of it was the curb of the airport I got stuck in last week. I really don't want to have to think about that place anymore. But it had the obligatory train, probably lifted from the airport in Tel Aviv, and I had to run around a lot trying to arrange some sort of transportation. I never went anywhere, though, and ended up just walking around to the side of the tower. I somehow opened a terminal window which allowed me to reshape the insides of the tower with some sort of streamlined mouse interface: I could draw passageways by hand, type words that would appear as groups of letter-shaped rooms, and hold down the button to automatically generate swathes of maze that would become larger and more dense until I released it. I was generating a maze as a challenge for myself, it seemed. Once I was done with that, I went to do some Serious Business.
My accomplice in this was some younger and I think Arab version of someone I met in a group video call the other day.... He was doing something for me in the tower, since I couldn't get in. There was a lot of discussion of the various strata of the tower: The upper levels were fancy hotels and malls, 10-40 floors above ground level were a sort of utopian city, which there was certainly room for in this colossal tower, and anything below ground floor was apparently really seedy and prone to flooding with a mixture of sewage and swamp water. Somewhere in the good part was a "princess" type damsel in not exactly distress but forlorn lack of romance or something, and I think this kid was trying to find her for me. On his way, he was apparently dating about 40 girls in the city, which we ended up having a long conversation about because he was 12.
In the end he found her and I infiltrated the tower through some sort of buttress strongly reminiscent of something I've built in Minecraft. Before I left, I left the maze generator in the hands of John Boyega, who seemed to be the man for the job. For all its polished exterior and publicity photos of elegant parks, the tower's insides were mostly chaotic, tangled corridors with rusty metal walls. Some rooms had inexplicably high ceilings, which I somehow managed to use to my advantage in escaping patrolling guards. I found the princess, initiating some montage of us secretly meeting in various idyllic meadows which, if basic spatial continuity is to believed, were somehow inside the tower. During one of these meetings, the Generic Sci-fi Osprey Knockoff I'd stowed away in to get there took off. It was a TRAP! Somehow. This was meant to delay my return until My Stealth boy ran out (I haven't even watched that many LPs of Falluot, honset) so the Guards could get me. These guards were archetypical butlers in tuxedoes armed with various throwable potions in bizarrely shaped vials. The Princess and I used their own weapons against them, identifying the potions by some floating tooltips which seemed to more rightly belong to battleships. One cough-syrup pink flask had specifications for a pair of deck guns.
Did I mention I had at this point turned into a younger SS-style Link, who was apparently from Louisiana? We fought our way down the Sealed Grounds and dropped down a hole in the middle and straight into Mad Max: Fury Road. The Princess disappeared, and now I was riding in a battered pickup truck with Tom Hardy. We were on the run from Harley Quinn, who had captured some two superheroes of some description and boarded them up inside some cavity of a Mad-Max-style mashed up and re-re-re-repaired Tank Droid. She was travelling to some particular location to execute her captives in some implausible, oddly specific and grisly way, unfortunately illustrated by a full-"screen" collage of comic panels.
Forcing them to kiss upside down, then pulling them apart to somehow interlock their upper teeth and ultimately rip their faces off.
She eventually caught up to us, pulling up in front and forcing us to stop. A few accomplices, whose names formed some clever acronym, got out of the tank's interstices to pull people out of the other cars that had apparently joined us. This acronym appeared prominently in one corner of a HUD for some reason. Harley came after and started killing everyone, including her traveling partners, and the acronym slowly got shorter.... I hid in the back of an SUV, pretending to be dead, and escaped with slashes down the soles of my feet. Tom Hardy had also survived apparently, and now Enoch Root was here too. We had apparently been trying to protect the top-secret Maid's Handbook, an encyclopedic guide to guerrilla tactics and espionage, and our pursuers had destroyed all but one volume. Conveniently enough, this one covered the infiltration of heavily defended orchards, of which (after miles and miles of desert) there was one nearby.
It turned out to have a minefield around it. I dug up and carefully detonated the mines with a rotten two by four; the mines appeared to be made of colored chalk in various fantastical and eroded filaments twisted together, and were quite inert if handled carefully. After escaping, I fed them to Securitrons.
Somehow I would convince them to replace their "faces" with mines and they would explode. I escaped their wrath by jumping down into the infinite caverns below the Tower, ricocheting off the Robot Overseer (who was mounted on a gigantic turntable) and launching myself into some platforming hell stolen from an Overgrowth video.
Fin.