Two dreams. One too disturbing for this blog, but the other was pretty fun.

... I get off the plane, and am introduced to my Internal Translators team. They've all been fitted with masks that perform the neccessary audio and visual translation. One of the Internal Translators remarks to me that she's happy to be on the project, because the car accident left her face mangled, and she'd been out of work for a long time.

We're lead to our first testing room, where we have to assemble a shuttle craft from the components present. After a rocky start, and much politics, we finally get a system together and start assembling the shuttle craft....

This is a long one.

.. Down the dark road I drive, and notice a group of people standing, blocking the road on a small bridge with a jacknifed semi near it. I can barely see them, but there's something wrong with them. They're not waving at me to help them, they're not moving out of the way. They're just staring at me, as I approach.

I go faster. Something's wrong here.

More and more people seem to be infected now. They've become distant and slow. I've hidden my self with two of my friends, and we've managed to evade the hunters so far. "They're looking for movement.." I say to Alan as he pulls aside the curtain to look outside - drawing the attention of the hunters.

We must be resistant, or special to the Hive somehow. Some guys from the Air Force, or Nasa, or something came to take us away after the hunters captured us. They're not infected.

As we travel to the government base, we learn that our captors are afraid of what's happening too. And just as powerless. Those infected by the Hive are everywhere now, and their faces are getting puffier, eyes beadier, nose flattening, grin widening.

We enter the base, and learn why we have been spared. The initial infection came from a spacewalk, and Patient Zero is in the final stages of his change. His puffed flesh sheds, and reveals a gossamer being, insectile. But it is not made for this place. The gravity of earth crushes it before it's exoskeleton can solidify, it's huge saillike wings, only nanometers thick, clump into useless piles of tissue. It's dead within moments.

We have been spared because we are needed. We have the creativity and drive to build the ships, corral the infected of Earth - the new members of the Hive - on board, and make sure that they emerge in the vacuum of space, their natural habitat.

This is the last task for humanity. We, the Spared, are all males. We will be the midwives for that which exterminated our race.

Last night...

.. I was in a large white junction between long white hallways, and at the center of the junction, I would teleport - 3 inches forward - to other hallways. I commented to some of my friends in the dream about the fact that if you turn around after you teleport, and look at the light in just the right way, you can watch a shell of skin oil (which wasn't teleported) shaped just like yourself slowly collapse to the floor. They were not impressed, and asked me to quit making the "Whoop!" and "Barmm" noises during the otherwise silent teleport process.

.. I was on a political prison on Pluto, where everyone had to wear a red fez with a gold cord and talk in an outrageous Turkish accent.

I normally just post my dreams, but this page was too gosh-darned funny: Why The Apple Machintosh Is A Tool Of The Satanic Evolutionists.

Wait till they find out about Linux, eh?

.. I was staring at my thumb. And I realized I was dreaming, and stared closely looking at it to see how accurate my dream-memory of my thumb was to my real thumb...

.. I stood outside my longhouse, looking deeply into the sky, red with aurora, and waited for Thor to strike his hammer in the night and, when the lightning flashed, show me which direction to take on my quest...