So, I just literally had the most ridiculous dream ever.
I have to write about it because it is ridiculous and it's ridiculous meter is through the roof. I want to remember it, though.
So, it started out pretty neat. I went to a
Brentalfloss convention that lasted an hour, somewhere in the world that was not North America (though, the skin tones of people were white, if that matters these days). We all sat around and talked about game systems like the NES and got some street passes on my 3DS. I then dyed my hair brown, at this convention... For the record, it is already brown. Then, the convention was done, so we got kicked out of the room by ushers, but my fiance had already left the room without me and so I wandered out to the lobby by myself.
The lobby was not too busy. It had the look of an older, but expensive hotel. Dark mahogany colours, red and deep brown carpeting, marginally low lighting in gorgeous sconces, marble here and there, really big staircases, a sweet old elevator which I did not ride... Okay. Maybe a horror hotel, I'm not sure how to classify it. It was beautiful, but aren't most things that are turned into horror? At the time,while I was dreaming, all I thought about it was that it was beautiful inside, and quite rich looking.
There, I ran into David Bowie, who was very tall, thin, and had blonde hair that was straight, you know, bowie-ish. He was wearing a tan coloured trench coat. He almost reminded me of an anime character. He was doing a photo shoot. Anyway, he looked good, if not bored. I thought that this was cool, but I kept getting into the way of the photographer, who was looking for something reflective for a shot and all she could find was this silver "kitchen utensil" (which looked suspiciously like a bedpan).
So, then i saw my fiance and his friend (henceforth called "B") wander out the back hallway, behind Bowie, down some stairs into the basement of this establishment where it was clearly not North America. There was a security guard with them. Of course, I went downstairs, where it looked suspiciously like a shorter-ceilinged hotel area. The ceiling, though, was that cheap white stuff that's in businesses; it's a foam, almost, that you can poke holes into. These guys:
There, against the wall at the back, lying (because that's how low the ceiling was in that area), was Bowie.
^He was better looking than he is here in this photo, more young but still similar, with very straight, blonde hair.
I stopped to talk to him, where he made a joke about me being able to sit up in the short little basement (where he proved his point by sitting up straight and hitting the ceiling with his head, and I was still hunching over, but on my feet) because I'm short and I responded that I would trade anytime ( my standard response to short jokes). If we traded though, I said, you probably wouldn't have had as many fans if you were as short as I am. Anyway, I said, I have to find my fiance. He chuckled and asked me to write my phone number and name on these little, round paper disks that he wore on a bracelet on his left wrist. These papers reminded me of the old, paper coasters that I found in my deceased Auntie Eleanor's side tables that I got from her.
There seemed to be lots of numbers on these papers, and not just phone, either. Some were in sets of two, some were just long lines of numbers. Thinking that maybe he collected sets of numbers or something, maybe even a book of phone numbers (This is literally what I thought in my dream), I decided to go ahead and do it. So, I wrote my name and number down on a wrist bracelet paper, and couldn't for the life of me remember it. He said that the guard had taken then into the next room to take blood. I bid my goodbyes, then hurriedly opened the door that led in to the next room.
In this room, which was brown fake wood coloured, similar to this paneling (but not the ceiling):
There were two tubs immediately in the middle. It looked to be about the same size as the room that I work in (quite small, maybe seven or eight feet squared), and there were things around where there would have been in the room that I work in, though not what would have been (my first thought was that I was somehow at work, in that little room, with carts and stuff around the edges). But, it was different, with shelves instead of carts and the deep brown colour walls with the dark red carpeting. There was a door in the same place as there is at work, though a regular push door rather than the sliding one that we have at work. It was open, to reveal a parking lot with no cars and a dumpster to the left side of the door, and a rather grey day outside.
And there, lying side-by-side, in tubs of ice cubes were my fiance and B, drained and very pale, with clearly hack-job surgery marks.
Let me clarify hack-job: My fiance's arm was removed (poorly, without solid cut marks--almost ripped off instead), and laid at his head. His chest was not really closed and he'd clearly had kidney and brain removal with shoddy bandages added for an awesome, pointless look.
On the plus side, there wasn't a lot of blood around...
Then the guard opened the door from behind me, pushed me inside, and said something akin to "so, we should take your blood too".
That's where I woke up. I wasn't scared, really. Just like, this is ridiculous. I have to write this down.
So, now I've shared it. Silly dreams.
