Apr. 2nd, 2012 12:28 pm
mcity: (Default)
I was hiding from Husks from Mass Effect 3 in a room in my cousin's house, along with several other people, including a girl whose big brother was an ex-con whose eyes were starting to go glowy, meaning he'd be a Husk soon, so he had left her with us. After a while of hiding in terror, occasionally peeking under the door to see if the Husks were still out there--apparently until they full converted they were basically zombies--we turned out the lights and realized the girl's eyes were glowing.

So we sent her into the next room, where Carlos Gomez was playing a bad comedian with worse hair sitting around waiting for company. Think Coolio circa 1993. He was glad to have someone to talk to, and we didn't tell him that she would rip him to pieces soon.
mcity: (Default)
I just had one of those dreams where it's a dream, and you know it's a dream, and characters from the BBC's Sherlock are apparently living in your house and are about to be framed by two women for My Little Pony graffiti in your living room.

Does anyone else have those?

And doesn't it suck when you wake up just before they catch the culprits?
mcity: (Default)
More specifically, he apparently lived in my house (back in the Bahamas), and was approached by some old guy in a sweater with "OSS" on the front. The OSS is the agency that became the CIA, and he wanted to take Molly gun training.

Not Alexis Castle. Molly Quinn, the actress who plays her. I know for a fact that if I were around the right age, I would spend as much time in Alexis' presence as possible. I'd be playing the best friend who likes the girl but never plucks up the courage to say so. Anyway, I get into the back of a van in the driveway, and Martha, Alexis' grandma, is in the front seat. I point out that as an attractive and intelligent young woman, Alexis is a perfect candidate for spy training. Martha isn't worried one bit.

Then I woke up having to poop.
mcity: (Default)
You know the standard-issue cast of the Hapless Everyman, the Experienced Traveller, and the Girl. Basically, Arthur Dent, Ford Prefect, and every female lead from an Urban Fantasy Book Ever. So they are walking around back allies, and encounter a zombie. Ford-knockoff tells Dent not to call the zombie "undead", because he doesn't like it.

Naturally, during the ensuing conversation, Dent calls the zombie an "undead", to which he snippily responds by declaring he's "living challenged", and Ford tries to smooth things over. Y'know, standard Terry Pratchett scenario.

No, wait, he tries to kill them.

Seriously. He gets so pissed off at the "insult" that he immediately tries to hunt them down, and they barely manage to get away, at which point he goes to their house and lies in wait. They come home, get guns, and wait for it to get dark. You know how you know stuff in dreams you don't know in reality? The dream actually informs me, watching all this, that their guns can see. They evolved a symbiotic relationship; in exchange for protection, they linked up with their nervous system and provided better vision range.

This turns out to be absolutely useless as crazy undead guy slaughters Ford, then Dent, then Girl, in the blink of an eye.

So, yeah. This would be one of the darker Gaiman books. Something TVTropes would label a Deconstruction. Not the Discworld type, the "rocks fall, everyone dies" type.
mcity: (Default)
Boy, that was a weird dream. Nice prison too. Library, internet access, clean. Luckily, it was in the US, so it was much better, my family and I agreed, than being stuck in the Bahamas' wretched hive of scum and villany known as Fox Hill Prison. It was more like a boarding school than a regular prison. A boarding school with a really strict curfew.
mcity: (Default)
Okay, I was back at the ol' Homestead back in Nassau, and my parents were renting to an African guy who wanted to kill me. I happened to walk past his room and say to his large and threat'ning group of friends that since he was a devotee of Odin and I was born on a Wednesday*, the conflict between us meant nothing, in a cosmic sense.

I scarpered off to my parents and told them that their lodger wanted to kill me on religious grounds. They decided to tape a really long pencil to a broomstick, to carry around at all times for defense. Instead of asking why they didn't call the police, kick the guy out, or both, my only objection was to him using masking tape instead of duct tape.

And then I woke up.

*Even watching the dream from third person, I thought "wait a minute! It was actually a Thursday! My birthday this year wasn't even on a Wednesday! And Wednesday is named after Odin! We're both patrons of the same god!".

Also, I'm 25 now.
mcity: (omg onoz)
It involved a cartoon cat and a raccoon sneaking into a tiny clapboard and straw house on an island by climbing into an upstairs back window (via illogical Quick-time events), then finding it had marble floors, a ceiling fan, and was bigger on the inside, then seeing the owner of the house killing his wife who was in the rocking chair out front, then being unable to leave as a ton of people passed the suddenly much larger island on their way home from church as the owner talked to cops out front, presumably because of his wife's death, and some blonde woman sitting on the couch downstairs near the front door. Then our two heroes figure out they can hide in the attic.

Time passes, and the owner, now a cartoon cat, comes upstairs to start throwing crap out now his wife is dead. And now all three are 3D, like in a DoubleFine game. They cat and 'coon hide in some boxes, and there's a minigame involving dodging the homeowner's attention by moving boxes and between boxes when he's not looking, in order to make it out. Anyway, they make it out of the attic, and out the front door, and for the front gate, and are suddenly smaller, cuter, and joined by a turtle. The turtle has high DEF, the cat has high speed, and the Raccoon comes from an ancient line of raccoon warriors, has the best attack, and is the main character. Also, beyond the front gate is suddenly a casino.

At which point my dentist called me to tell me they'd have to reschedule my appointment today.


Nov. 14th, 2011 11:27 am
mcity: (exclamation mark)
The Law and Order crew were intervening in unrest at my old high school, with Cyrus Lupo, Connie Rubirosa as a cop, and SWAT teams.

I was in it, and was getting harassed by one of those actors who's in everything playing secondary characters. He was the head of the SWAT teams.

He said to his guys that the people you have to watch out for aren't the Michael Westens (Burn Notice), but the The people who are Westen to Westen. Via dream logic, I understood that to mean if Mike's fanboys had their own fanboys. Think the Cutie Mark Crusaders from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, now imagine they had their own sidekicks. Or imagine these guys had their own imposters.

Heck, I doubt BN's Sugar could lead a Sunday School group through Disneyland. Just imagine what would happen if he started fooling around with automatic weapons. Imagine the narration.

"Look, when you're making an elaborate sting to take down a drug dealer, you need stealth, cunning, and something he wants. He wants drugs. We can use the drugs to get him into, like, a vulnerable position, and BAM! Leave him for the cops."
"Sugar, that's kinda vague."
"So we'll improvise. It always works for Mike!"
"But he's a guy who used to be a spy."
"Look, I know we're not as good as him, but how hard could it be?"
"Are you trying to get us killed?"
mcity: (what - martha)
So if was some sort of slightly caricatured Discworld setting, Unseen University, midnight. Everyone has larger heads than normal, but it's presented in a cartoonish way, not like those flashback bits on George Lopez.


Anyway, the wizards have all had bad, portentous, boding dreams, and figure something horrible is about to happen.

Vetinari is there, too, played by a clean-shaven Patrick Stewart at normal proportions. One wizard had a clearer portent than all the rest, and says that someone is going to die horribly. With typical Discworld logic, Stewart orders that he be taken into custody so he can't tell anyone, and several guards in Roman legion outfits come from nowhere, lower spears, and advance on the poor guy. Just when Vimes shows up with his patented Voice of Reason™, I wake up.
mcity: (Default)
...and investigating a murder or something. Meanwhile, in the sewers, a young cop with tattoos on either side of her stomach who looks like the lead of Dead Winter got bit on the arm by a zombie, which she apparently killed. There are two non-feral zombies in there with her, and there's an overhead shot of a croc torn in half with its brain missing.

Cut to the cop with her brand new croc-tail tentacle arm.

Unfortunately, that's when I woke up.

*As in Vampire: The Masquerade.
mcity: (Default)
My dreams last night involved Catwoman-drawn and animated by Punchninja*-dropping into the backseat of a Asian family's SUV between two kids and they all seemed to be expecting her. Then someone blows up said SUV near an underpass, and they all escape with their lives, but all their luggage get's destroyed. The parents somewhow scrounge up some clothes, I-suddenly it's my family-read some books in the house we apparently broke into or are renting.

Then my sister and I went into a mall, and the cute blonde woman behind the counter of a donut got really nervous because I was big and black and there after closing (suddenly the store was closing) and she never gave me my cherry-donut thing ($0.95, artist's conception above). I could even see one on the Dunkin' Donuts style rack behind the counter. The dream me-I know it wasn't me because I was thinking NO STOP YOU IDIOT WHAT ARE YOU DOING-commited a series of faux pas** when the girl started to get nervous. And she never gave me my donut, and my sister dragged me off from the place which was apparently in an airport*** and I socially engineered my parents into not listening to anything she had to say on the matter in a totally unrealistic fashion and then I woke up.

*According to dA's search function, he's never drawn her. This (NSFW) is the closest I could find. Weird. I think there was a little Hughes in thar too.
** I thought she was indicating something behind the counter, so I started to go around it. Then I tried to hit on her. At this point, the real me, who was just observing, was facepalming with his head in his lap.
*** If I hadn't realized already, that when I would've known I was in a dream. You can't even get toilet paper in an airport for under a buck.
mcity: (Default)
Had a dream Thursday morning/Wednesday night about that new USA show Covert Affairs. It's about that actress from "Coyote Ugly" joining the CIA, and my dream version is likely significantly more awesome than the real thing. Said version is more or less Burn Notice.

There was one scene when Piper and some FBI guy she had teamed up with were wondering how to exit a stairwell to make their way up to some guy they wanted toTalk To in the penthouse suite. Aparently, going through the lobby and up the elevator would carry a low risk of alerting him, but was slow. The fire escape, however, was apparently faster, but would set off an alarm.

Then someone attacked her with a grenade, setting off an alarm.

They took the stairs.
mcity: (jawdrop)
That wouldn't have been so bad, despite their divorce ten years ago, except that Betty White had slipped them a mickey. And Bruce had four eyes. And Demi looked like a female Adam Lambert with a white stripe through her hair* and had four breasts and a metallic scorpion tail.

Strangely enough, it took me several hours to get back to sleep.

*Not necessarily a bad thing.
mcity: (Default)
It is nine o'clock, monday morning. There is a madman sitting in your living room. He killed your dog, and is ranting about "the grey". Your parents have him stuck in the living room, and he doesn't try to escape, just keeps talking about how it was "dirty" and "infected". Well, yes, it hadn't had a bath recently, but murder was uncalled for. And he's one to talk; his own clothes are matted with urine and sweat. Your family is going to have to burn the chair he's in.

It is eleven o'clock, monday morning. The police have taken the lunatic's statement, and taken him into custody, leaving the body's disposal to you. As you leave for work, you take one last look at the girl; the edges of the wound are covered in red, with a few tendrils of silver material. You warn your family about possible mercury poisoning and leave for work.

It is eleven oh-five, monday morning. You look along the road to see if the bus is coming, and see a dog that looks a lot like yours darting behind a bush. Of course, there are a lot of brown dogs around, and you've been fooled before. You dismiss it.

It is three o'clock, tuesday morning. The adrenaline can't keep you up forever, and you think about asking Miller if you guys should organize some sort of watch. You've never fired anything more lethal than a slingshot before, but you are already too familiar with the pump-action shotgun in your hands. In the early-morning outside, silver-covered wraiths, creatures once human, move gracelessly through the streets. You scratch nervously at a gash on your hand, one that won't stop itching.

It is eight o'clock, monday. I wake up.
mcity: (Default)
Yesterday morning, I unscrewed the lid of a Pepsi bottle and won 2.5 million dollars.

And then I woke up.
mcity: (Default)
And kept replacing it with a GBA. Which could somehow fit a Genesis cart in it.

He didn't seem sorry at all when I confronted him.
mcity: (Default)
a dream peturbed )
mcity: (picnic's over)
I had a dream that there was a corner in my house except it wasn't my house and there was a secret staircase that wouldn't show unless you hit the white button on your controller to turn the light on and then the floor disappeared and the staircase went down and around and up into a 90s room and in the closet were these old magazines and games and a PC copy of Psychonauts and I didn't know if it would play on my computer.

'K bye.

But a secret room only accessible by flashlight? How awesome would that be?
mcity: (Default)
I had a dream on Sunday morning, about mentally impared teenagers who were apparently doing each other.

I'm ashamed to say that my dream-self looked at the special underage people who were having sex, and his first thought was that he couldn't figure out how to illustrate this on his LiveJournal.
mcity: (jayne pointy)
I had a dream.

I was some kid at some company looking up stuff in a magazine rack near the front entrance. The narrow reception hall was small, and decorated in mid-Seventies. For some reason, I kept flashing back to an aquarium. Anyway, the magazine I was supposed to find for reference looked like The Economist with a ukiyo-e* print on the cover. Among other magazines on the rack were a set of National Geographics with interlocking covers that showed a map with Severus Snape** standing on it making faces.

Anyway. )
/for a hero of a man

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