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[Haspen]

xD

Yer invaded my dream, I'm scarred V:

[Yoink]

I've had the occasional forumite invade my dreams, too.
Although none of them have tried to kill me. Yet...

[Sabretache]

I had a dream where I had to steal a solid stone piano from the top of some huge building. Somehow I manage to get the piano into my escape vehicle on the roof. The escape vehicle was a speed boat...
I then drove down through the city (Maybe New York?) in the boat eventually getting to the ocean before an epic chase with the coast guard. Somewhere in there I somehow saw a news report about the incident with the Medic and Heavy from TF2 being interviewed... I think the Demoman was the guy helping me steal the piano also...

Odd.

Edit.
One that I just remembered. It was a zombie apocalypse and our two story house somehow combined both stories into a 'above ground 1st/2nd floor' (safe from the zombies). Anyways I find a bag of grenades and decided to blow up the neighbourhood with them and purge the zombies. I get sidetracked and just take pot shots at zombies which are like 300m away in a sewer with grenades from the balcony. I then think 'how did I throw them that far?' before having a nice roast lamb dinner with potatoes...

[MaximumZero]

I had a very, very strange semi-lucid dream last night.

I had been kidnapped by North Korean infiltrators, and taken...somewhere. It looked to be a warehouse of some kind. I was put in chains, forcibly stripped, and put into fighting gear. Apparently, this was a huge mistake, because I punched out most of the people holding my chains, rushed toward a door, and when I went to open it, my captors started begging me and pleading not to open the door, or everyone would die. They were crying. Even the ones I hadn't punched. Anyway, I went to another door, and was led up an entryway into an arena/fight club setting. A rickety boxing ring was surrounded by probably two or three thousand totally silent Koreans.  As I climbed into the ring, I felt all eyes on me. I was mildly disturbed. An announcement was made to back away from the ring, and a barbed-wire fence rammed its way through the floor, surrounding the ring. A ramp was lowered over the fence, and it was announced that North Korea's best fighter would be entering via the ramp, due to a number of crowd fatalities last time the fighter got into the ring. All of the sudden, heavy metal music began playing, people began screaming in a weird combination of panic and excitement, an announcer began announcing something in korean, I heard the words 32 and 0, and down the ramp came...

a potato. Not a giant potato, not Kim Jong-Un as a potatoman, no. Just a regular ol' Idaho potato. As it hit the floor, everyone in the crowd gasped. I stood there. The music stopped. A referee shouted to begin from outside the cage. The potato, not done from rolling down the ramp, rolled slowly toward me. It bumped into my foot, which drew large "ooh"s and "ah"s from the crowd. I pushed it a little bit with my foot, but the ring was slanted toward me because of my weight, so it rolled right back to me. When it bumped into me again, huge cheers erupted from the crowd. I pushed it again, the crowd hushed. So, I walk up to the potato, pick it up and put it in the middle of the ring, between my feet. Hushed whispers ran through the crowd. A dozen announcers have been talking this whole time. I look around, and see that there are tv cameras planted in the crowd. At the top of the arena area, there is a glassed off section holding what looks to be important military personnel and Kim Jong-Un.

So, I decide to make a show of it. I pick the potato up, and promptly fall over with my arm behind my back, faking that I'm in a submission hold. I scream in fake pain, trying to keep from laughing. The crowd roars. I plant my hands on the floor, turn a somersault to escape the "submission", and get back to my feet. The crowd hushes. I put both hands on the potato, get into a Muay Thai clinch stance, and pretend to struggle with it. The crowd begins to chant. Po-ta-to! Po-ta-to! Suddently, I bring my hands to my knee, as if I were throwing a knockout knee strike to someone's head, and spray potato chunks everywhere. I have defeated the potato. The arena is silent. Kim Jong-Un is crying. I raise my hand in victory and the dream ends.

WTF?

[Haspen]

* Haspen is speechless.

[RedWarrior0]

-SNIP SNIP-

Well then.

[Fniff]

And that's why America will always beat the communists. We don't challenge people to cage fights with potatoes.

We do it with tomatoes.

[Lagslayer]

I had a very, very strange semi-lucid dream last night.

I had been kidnapped by North Korean infiltrators, and taken...somewhere. It looked to be a warehouse of some kind. I was put in chains, forcibly stripped, and put into fighting gear. Apparently, this was a huge mistake, because I punched out most of the people holding my chains, rushed toward a door, and when I went to open it, my captors started begging me and pleading not to open the door, or everyone would die. They were crying. Even the ones I hadn't punched. Anyway, I went to another door, and was led up an entryway into an arena/fight club setting. A rickety boxing ring was surrounded by probably two or three thousand totally silent Koreans.  As I climbed into the ring, I felt all eyes on me. I was mildly disturbed. An announcement was made to back away from the ring, and a barbed-wire fence rammed its way through the floor, surrounding the ring. A ramp was lowered over the fence, and it was announced that North Korea's best fighter would be entering via the ramp, due to a number of crowd fatalities last time the fighter got into the ring. All of the sudden, heavy metal music began playing, people began screaming in a weird combination of panic and excitement, an announcer began announcing something in korean, I heard the words 32 and 0, and down the ramp came...

a potato. Not a giant potato, not Kim Jong-Un as a potatoman, no. Just a regular ol' Idaho potato. As it hit the floor, everyone in the crowd gasped. I stood there. The music stopped. A referee shouted to begin from outside the cage. The potato, not done from rolling down the ramp, rolled slowly toward me. It bumped into my foot, which drew large "ooh"s and "ah"s from the crowd. I pushed it a little bit with my foot, but the ring was slanted toward me because of my weight, so it rolled right back to me. When it bumped into me again, huge cheers erupted from the crowd. I pushed it again, the crowd hushed. So, I walk up to the potato, pick it up and put it in the middle of the ring, between my feet. Hushed whispers ran through the crowd. A dozen announcers have been talking this whole time. I look around, and see that there are tv cameras planted in the crowd. At the top of the arena area, there is a glassed off section holding what looks to be important military personnel and Kim Jong-Un.

So, I decide to make a show of it. I pick the potato up, and promptly fall over with my arm behind my back, faking that I'm in a submission hold. I scream in fake pain, trying to keep from laughing. The crowd roars. I plant my hands on the floor, turn a somersault to escape the "submission", and get back to my feet. The crowd hushes. I put both hands on the potato, get into a Muay Thai clinch stance, and pretend to struggle with it. The crowd begins to chant. Po-ta-to! Po-ta-to! Suddently, I bring my hands to my knee, as if I were throwing a knockout knee strike to someone's head, and spray potato chunks everywhere. I have defeated the potato. The arena is silent. Kim Jong-Un is crying. I raise my hand in victory and the dream ends.

WTF?

Epic dream. I'm glad to have been here to read your recounting of it.

Now, if only i could remember my dream from last night. I remember it was a particularly good one, in a semi-nightmarish sort of way.

[Loud Whispers]

Is it normal for dreams to include physical pain? Last night I dreamed that I was doing something for someone else (the specifics have been forgotten). If I did something wrong, it felt like dozens of long, sharp needles were being jammed into my back. It woke me up more than once.

No idea. But there was a few times when I had dreams of my ribs getting smashed via dream trauma, lungs getting stabbed via scuba man with a knife, lungs impaling themselves on ribs e.t.c.
They were appropriately painful dreams. Though it never woke me up and I never thought much of it. Pain is all a part of the virtual reality we call perception, so it stands to reason our brain can effectively simulate the stimulation of pain.

[RedKing]

I had a very, very strange semi-lucid dream last night.

I had been kidnapped by North Korean infiltrators, and taken...somewhere. It looked to be a warehouse of some kind. I was put in chains, forcibly stripped, and put into fighting gear. Apparently, this was a huge mistake, because I punched out most of the people holding my chains, rushed toward a door, and when I went to open it, my captors started begging me and pleading not to open the door, or everyone would die. They were crying. Even the ones I hadn't punched. Anyway, I went to another door, and was led up an entryway into an arena/fight club setting. A rickety boxing ring was surrounded by probably two or three thousand totally silent Koreans.  As I climbed into the ring, I felt all eyes on me. I was mildly disturbed. An announcement was made to back away from the ring, and a barbed-wire fence rammed its way through the floor, surrounding the ring. A ramp was lowered over the fence, and it was announced that North Korea's best fighter would be entering via the ramp, due to a number of crowd fatalities last time the fighter got into the ring. All of the sudden, heavy metal music began playing, people began screaming in a weird combination of panic and excitement, an announcer began announcing something in korean, I heard the words 32 and 0, and down the ramp came...

a potato. Not a giant potato, not Kim Jong-Un as a potatoman, no. Just a regular ol' Idaho potato. As it hit the floor, everyone in the crowd gasped. I stood there. The music stopped. A referee shouted to begin from outside the cage. The potato, not done from rolling down the ramp, rolled slowly toward me. It bumped into my foot, which drew large "ooh"s and "ah"s from the crowd. I pushed it a little bit with my foot, but the ring was slanted toward me because of my weight, so it rolled right back to me. When it bumped into me again, huge cheers erupted from the crowd. I pushed it again, the crowd hushed. So, I walk up to the potato, pick it up and put it in the middle of the ring, between my feet. Hushed whispers ran through the crowd. A dozen announcers have been talking this whole time. I look around, and see that there are tv cameras planted in the crowd. At the top of the arena area, there is a glassed off section holding what looks to be important military personnel and Kim Jong-Un.

So, I decide to make a show of it. I pick the potato up, and promptly fall over with my arm behind my back, faking that I'm in a submission hold. I scream in fake pain, trying to keep from laughing. The crowd roars. I plant my hands on the floor, turn a somersault to escape the "submission", and get back to my feet. The crowd hushes. I put both hands on the potato, get into a Muay Thai clinch stance, and pretend to struggle with it. The crowd begins to chant. Po-ta-to! Po-ta-to! Suddently, I bring my hands to my knee, as if I were throwing a knockout knee strike to someone's head, and spray potato chunks everywhere. I have defeated the potato. The arena is silent. Kim Jong-Un is crying. I raise my hand in victory and the dream ends.

WTF?

......


.....


...I don't know what you've been smoking, but I'd like to order three metric tons of it. Express shipping.

[Slayerhero90]

I had a very, very strange semi-lucid dream last night.

I had been kidnapped by North Korean infiltrators, and taken...somewhere. It looked to be a warehouse of some kind. I was put in chains, forcibly stripped, and put into fighting gear. Apparently, this was a huge mistake, because I punched out most of the people holding my chains, rushed toward a door, and when I went to open it, my captors started begging me and pleading not to open the door, or everyone would die. They were crying. Even the ones I hadn't punched. Anyway, I went to another door, and was led up an entryway into an arena/fight club setting. A rickety boxing ring was surrounded by probably two or three thousand totally silent Koreans.  As I climbed into the ring, I felt all eyes on me. I was mildly disturbed. An announcement was made to back away from the ring, and a barbed-wire fence rammed its way through the floor, surrounding the ring. A ramp was lowered over the fence, and it was announced that North Korea's best fighter would be entering via the ramp, due to a number of crowd fatalities last time the fighter got into the ring. All of the sudden, heavy metal music began playing, people began screaming in a weird combination of panic and excitement, an announcer began announcing something in korean, I heard the words 32 and 0, and down the ramp came...

a potato. Not a giant potato, not Kim Jong-Un as a potatoman, no. Just a regular ol' Idaho potato. As it hit the floor, everyone in the crowd gasped. I stood there. The music stopped. A referee shouted to begin from outside the cage. The potato, not done from rolling down the ramp, rolled slowly toward me. It bumped into my foot, which drew large "ooh"s and "ah"s from the crowd. I pushed it a little bit with my foot, but the ring was slanted toward me because of my weight, so it rolled right back to me. When it bumped into me again, huge cheers erupted from the crowd. I pushed it again, the crowd hushed. So, I walk up to the potato, pick it up and put it in the middle of the ring, between my feet. Hushed whispers ran through the crowd. A dozen announcers have been talking this whole time. I look around, and see that there are tv cameras planted in the crowd. At the top of the arena area, there is a glassed off section holding what looks to be important military personnel and Kim Jong-Un.

So, I decide to make a show of it. I pick the potato up, and promptly fall over with my arm behind my back, faking that I'm in a submission hold. I scream in fake pain, trying to keep from laughing. The crowd roars. I plant my hands on the floor, turn a somersault to escape the "submission", and get back to my feet. The crowd hushes. I put both hands on the potato, get into a Muay Thai clinch stance, and pretend to struggle with it. The crowd begins to chant. Po-ta-to! Po-ta-to! Suddently, I bring my hands to my knee, as if I were throwing a knockout knee strike to someone's head, and spray potato chunks everywhere. I have defeated the potato. The arena is silent. Kim Jong-Un is crying. I raise my hand in victory and the dream ends.

WTF?

......


.....


...I don't know what you've been smoking, but I'd like to order three metric tons of it. Express shipping.

Patriotism. That's what he's smoked.

[Tarran]

Patriotism. That's what he's smoked.

Correction: Patriotism Tobacco.

[Xantalos]

I would like to have dreams like this.

[Starver]

I had a dream where I was a wolf. I believe I killed a mammoth or similar mammal.

Odd. Never had a dream where I wasn't anyone but myself.

I've mentioned before that I've often been random people (or a 3rd-person observer, but usually focussed upon the starring character I might temporarily not be 1st-person with), jumping around as the internal dream plot and fantastical associated screenplay desires.

For a large part of last night's dream 'I' was a teenage girl of a different ethnicity, and or a ghost-type being that was accompanying her (and doing useful things for her like drilling out entire bricks from a wall so that the girl had footholds and handholds to could climb up the wall to repair some minor damage she'd done nearer the ceiling before the parents noticed...  yeah... logical at the time...), in a family home that was nothing like my own.  And neither ghost nor girl were me (so far as I know), yet there I was, often behind the eyes (ectoplasmic or otherwise).

But when I was out of the house and in the toy-shop[1], I was more me.  Perhaps.  The fact that I was also (usually upon departing the toy-shop to do more Christmas shopping) apparently a Victorian gentleman (or possibly a less refined person of the self-same streets) who was at times asked to deal with trouble on the fledgling London Underground makes me doubt that I was entirely me, even then.


[1] Another major setting, with its own plot to it that needs unravelling.

[Leatra]

So, I had a dream where I was working in an evil corporation as a corporate drone. It was... an interesting dream. The dream even gave me an idea about a short story.

I was the secretary of an evil woman named Emma Whats-her-surname. I was more like a slave. The corporation had accommodations, food, etc and I wasn't allowed to leave. I needed to be promoted to be allowed to leave the building and the promotion wasn't coming anytime soon. I just wanted to leave before I went crazy.

I secretly entered the Emma's room (which was next to my tiny room) with the key she gave me. She wasn't there. I searched through the documents and tried to find... something. I was just trying to find a way to get out of this hellhole. I found a note on her table and read it. I don't remember exactly what was written but I remember what was it about. It roughly said:

Next time I won't be so kind and if you don't meet my demands, worse will happen.

Max.

Max. I didn't know who this Max was and what he wanted from my boss. What's more is, who the fuck leaves his name on a threat note which can be used as evidence against him later? I didn't care much anyway. So, someone was messing with my evil boss? Cool! Anyway, I couldn't find anything else of interest so I cleaned the mess I made while searching and got out. I decided to take a walk around the building. While walking around, I saw an old man, wearing a tuxedo. He seemed... important. An important man like this probably could leave this building whenever he wanted. That gave me an idea and I tried something.

I put my winning smile and walked towards the old man shouting "Hey, remember me?". He smiled too but it was obvious he was thinking more like "Who da fuck is this?" and he was just smiling to not seem rude. When I got closer to him, I laughed and said "Ah, good old days" and hugged him. When I hugged him, I quickly searched through his pockets and found a card. After I took the card and stopped my bear hug, I said "Okay, see ya later." and walked away. He was like "WTF JUST HAPPEN?" but I guess he was too much of a gentleman to say it.

Anyway, after I put a safe distance, I found a bench and sit there. I examined the card, it was a simple business ID card you can wear around your neck. This guy was definitely someone important. I didn't even have a work card. Maybe I could use it to my advantage. I looked at the photo on the card, it looked nothing like me because the guy in the photo, well, it was that old guy. I realized the photo was in some kind of a pocket inside the protective material around the card. It was like someone cut the protective plastic with a knife, scraped off the photo on it, and put another photo. Weird. Eh, it worked to my advantage.

I quickly got back to my office and found a small photo of me in my desk. I took off the photo of the old guy from the card and put in my photo. I memorized the name, department, etc on the card in case someone asked me something. Funny thing is I don't remember any of it now. I wore the card around my neck, and before I escaped from this corporatedom, I decided to take a look at Emma, my boss' office for the lulz. She wasn't there again, but there was some half-eaten omelette on her table. I thought about poisoning her meal (seriously) but it could be suspicious if Emma suddenly died because of a poison and her secretary disappeared into thin air.

Kinda disappointed with not murdering Emma, I decided to haul ass before I got caught with someone else's card. Now, the dream is kinda hazy from now on but what I remember is, I tried to find an exit from this building for like, forever. After waking up, I thought about it a little and then Fridge Horror kicked in. The building is already the size of a small town and it has EVERYTHING. It even had virtual sunlight. It was some hi-tech stuff. You can simply live there. So, the building probably didn't have an exit and we were meant to work like slaves until we died. That was our world, simple as that.

BTW, I have no idea who Max is. Maybe I forgot that part of the dream where I find out about him or something.

Also, it's kinda weird that I'm not in my country but another country where people have English names and everyone talks English.