I blame the storms that woke me up and kept me up for shifting my sleep schedule yet also giving me this memorable sequence.
---
A friend and I were traveling, no details about why or where, but it was raining too hard to keep going at night, so we stopped at a motel to wait out the storm. My friend--and she might have been a coworker (?) but it was also clear I was fond of her like a daughter--couldn't sit still, was restless, and so went exploring at what looked like a grain silo right next to the little motel. I stood nearby under shelter watching her do her antics, like tiptoeing about and peeking in doors as if she were a comedienne-cat-burglar. I remember thinking how it was amusing but that she probably shouldn't be doing it. She went up some stairs that wrapped around and out of sight, but then came hurrying down them and shouting (I cannot remember the exact phrasing), "Yikes! It's like a kinky sex-bondage place--or maybe a kidnapping place!"
"Then you probably shouldn't be yelling so loud about it," I remember telling her in mixed tone of disapproval and humor. She continued to exclaim about her little adventure and what she'd seen, describing lines of rings on rollers at the height that would keep your hands above your head, which was the entirety of how she formed her opinion.
I was about to dismiss her when a slender guy came out and raised an odd-looking wooden pipe-thing to his mouth. She had been yelling to me and was slowly walking back so we were still separated by a dozen paces, yet when she saw the guy, she yelped and dodged and raced to get behind me. At the same time, I was also running toward them because even though the thing the guy held and used looked like a cheap wooden saxophone in shape, I knew it was a weapon of some kind.
In a few strides and before he could turn on me and do whatever, I ripped the thing out of his hands, swung it at him, he dodged, then I swung wide, arcing low beneath his legs, caught them in the hook, and yanked him off his feet. The force cracked the odd pipe-thing, so as I loomed over him, I snapped it the rest of the way in two over a knee.
He wasn't making a move to get up, the fight, such as it was, was over, and so I held up a piece and asked, "What was this? Some kind of dart gun?" He nodded, sheepishly. "Some kind of tranq?" He nodded again. "Well," I said in conclusion, "your weapon really blows." Inspired, I continued, "I mean, blowing the whole fun mood."
And I said several more clever-groaner puns that I could not drag back with me from silly dreamland, but I continued cracking jokes about it until a couple other people had gathered and were chuckling, my friend was calmed down, and even the slender guy on the ground, who was clearly no threat, smiled nervously and joined in. "I...guess I really blew it."
Helping him up, I answered, "I highly recommend you finding a better job." And then I woke up just wondering if I should laugh it off or write it down, but since so much of it stuck with me...enjoy. It's been quite a while since I've had any dream of note, so sometimes one just needs to take what they get.
---
A friend and I were traveling, no details about why or where, but it was raining too hard to keep going at night, so we stopped at a motel to wait out the storm. My friend--and she might have been a coworker (?) but it was also clear I was fond of her like a daughter--couldn't sit still, was restless, and so went exploring at what looked like a grain silo right next to the little motel. I stood nearby under shelter watching her do her antics, like tiptoeing about and peeking in doors as if she were a comedienne-cat-burglar. I remember thinking how it was amusing but that she probably shouldn't be doing it. She went up some stairs that wrapped around and out of sight, but then came hurrying down them and shouting (I cannot remember the exact phrasing), "Yikes! It's like a kinky sex-bondage place--or maybe a kidnapping place!"
"Then you probably shouldn't be yelling so loud about it," I remember telling her in mixed tone of disapproval and humor. She continued to exclaim about her little adventure and what she'd seen, describing lines of rings on rollers at the height that would keep your hands above your head, which was the entirety of how she formed her opinion.
I was about to dismiss her when a slender guy came out and raised an odd-looking wooden pipe-thing to his mouth. She had been yelling to me and was slowly walking back so we were still separated by a dozen paces, yet when she saw the guy, she yelped and dodged and raced to get behind me. At the same time, I was also running toward them because even though the thing the guy held and used looked like a cheap wooden saxophone in shape, I knew it was a weapon of some kind.
In a few strides and before he could turn on me and do whatever, I ripped the thing out of his hands, swung it at him, he dodged, then I swung wide, arcing low beneath his legs, caught them in the hook, and yanked him off his feet. The force cracked the odd pipe-thing, so as I loomed over him, I snapped it the rest of the way in two over a knee.
He wasn't making a move to get up, the fight, such as it was, was over, and so I held up a piece and asked, "What was this? Some kind of dart gun?" He nodded, sheepishly. "Some kind of tranq?" He nodded again. "Well," I said in conclusion, "your weapon really blows." Inspired, I continued, "I mean, blowing the whole fun mood."
And I said several more clever-groaner puns that I could not drag back with me from silly dreamland, but I continued cracking jokes about it until a couple other people had gathered and were chuckling, my friend was calmed down, and even the slender guy on the ground, who was clearly no threat, smiled nervously and joined in. "I...guess I really blew it."
Helping him up, I answered, "I highly recommend you finding a better job." And then I woke up just wondering if I should laugh it off or write it down, but since so much of it stuck with me...enjoy. It's been quite a while since I've had any dream of note, so sometimes one just needs to take what they get.
