Dream Log: April 17, 2002

I woke up alone in the strange bedroom, but after a while I remembered where I was, though the vixen wasnt there anymore. I wondered where she had gone so I dressed up and walked out from the bedroom door. I met a little fox girl outside the room and asked her about the adult vixen, and her answer was "We're all children here! Age doesnt matter!". I thought she was just playing with me, but a teenage vixen came in and asked who I was looking for. I realized that what the little girl meant was that everyone was playfull no matter what age, and woke up.

There had been a plauge, a virus had swept through the population. Those who had been through it were physically unharmed, but could no longer read or write. Most of them could not talk coherently anymore. (I did not come up with this idea, BTW, I read it in an SF short story a while back.) I had been spared.

Beause of this, there was complete chaos and breakdown outside. I decided that it would be wise to go armed. The gun that I had was patterned on a memory of a pistol that a friend had years ago: A beretta. I opened it up, flicked the safely and explained that I knew how it worked: "Sixteen in the clip and one in the hole". I said. In waking life I know that lyric refers to a glock not a beretta.

I stepped outside.

Anyway, this realization of mine was that, the reason I have so many crazy dreams is whenever I dream about normal things (like riding the bus to school) I know I'm dreaming, and always knowing that wouldn't be very productive would it? So the craziness shall continue...But still, it seems it should be quite the opposite doesn't it?