Tuesday, February 19, 2019

"Shaken, not Stirred." - 04/24/2005

"Shaken, not Stirred."
4/24/2005

(Eat your heart out, James Bond. Lol.)

This one started out in a warehouse party. Great music; lighting; the whole nine. The crowd wasn’t too large - just how I like them, and there were many breakers and poppers, lighting up the dance floor. I tried to bust out a few moves, myself, but for some reason, I couldn’t get the coordination right. No matter, though. I couldn't remember who my date was, other than that she was a brunette with an exotic look to her.

When the dream changed, the transition was so smooth, I almost didn’t recognize it. A hail of bullets ripped through the warehouse, from outside. For the most part, the crowd seemed to have disappeared, except for myself; my date; and just a handful of others.

Taking cover, I glanced out the window and saw a militant vehicle circling around, outside. I can’t remember if I intentionally conjured the sub-machine gun, that I suddenly had - or if I just picked it up - but there was now one in my hand. My date had gotten out from behind her cover, to come to where I was hiding. Just as she did this, the vehicle came around again. I dove out, from behind the wall I was covering behind, and had to physically shoulder the girl out of the way as another stream of bullets broke out over our heads.

From down on the deck, I returned fire, but this vehicle was an armored watercraft. It seems the warehouse we were in had been on a small patch of land, in some sort of harbor, with a few tall buildings stretching skyward, around us. I gave the girl the gun, telling her to keep herself in cover, and threw myself from the window, diving into the water as the boat went behind the building again. There was a small pontoon boat in the water, that the enemy kept passing, and I made my way over toward it - feeling, in the back of my mind, that there was something Large, living under the water (as there usually is, in my dreams that contain lakes and swamps and things). Trying not to think about whether this assumed creature - or creatures - would be carnivorous or not, I reached the pontoon boat and crawled up onto it, pulling myself over the side and into the boat just as I heard the enemy boat come back around, and ducking out of sight. The second that they passed me, I dove back into the water with one arm stretched out, grabbing the back of the armored watercraft. Its wake sprayed, relentlessly, into my face, the vessel dragging me through the water, as it made another pass around the warehouse. Seeing no one outside, they broke off their patrol and we continued on down one of the narrow canals that lea inland from the harbor, and I climbed up the back of the enemy boat.

What came next is very obscured, but consisted of your normal, Bond-ish, 'climb-aboard-with-the-element-of-surprise-and-disarm-and/or-kill-everyone-around-you' scenario. I wish I could remember all the details of it, but its all blurred until I ended up atop one of the taller buildings around the harbor. Night was falling, and I suppose I’d been fighting this militant group for the whole time. With a freshly-acquired (likely stolen) weapon in hand, I glanced off of the high roof, back toward the harbor and the warehouse where everything had started. Still not quite lucid (though you’d figure all of this would have told me Something), I took a few steps and launched myself off of this rooftop. The world slipped into a vertical blur of velocity, while I free-fell toward the concrete that lined the harbor. I landed with a forgettable softness, on both feet, just as my date had come running out of the warehouse, in front of me. With all, now, quiet - moonlight fallen on the still waters - we dove into the water and swam away from the dangerous place, joyously dismissive of the massive 'Thing' that I could just instinctively feel was living, somewhere, in the waterways we used to escape.

….Amazingly…no true lucidity. But hell, entertaining dream, nonetheless.

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