Dreams

First was the dream in which I was being pursued through this huge underground airport baggage handling facility by the T-1000 Terminator. Ahnold's Terminator was trying to protect me because I had this microchip in my pocket that Skynet needed in order to take over or something.

Racing down halls and through huge rooms full of roller chutes and conveyor belts, I kept trying to help Ahnold shoot up the T-1000 in this long running gunfight with this sweet LaRue PredatAR 5.56, but he was like "No, go on. You have to keep that chip safe." And so I ran on and heard this colossal exchange of gunfire behind me, and knew that the T-1000 was still coming.

I ran through the airport parking garage, where there had been this awful helicopter crash, the place was full of mangled UH-1 and still smoldering wreckage and crime scene tape, and I ran through the airport check-in area, and remember being disappointed that there was no way I could get on the other side of the security zone with the AR because, like, the TSA totally would have stopped the T-1000 if I had, right?

And so I ran back out and got cornered in the landscaping with my back against one of the parking deck ramps, and the T-1000 grabbed my shirt with one hand and fished the microchip out of my pocket with the other. And then in a very un-machinelike fashion, it stood back to gloat, smirking at me and tossing its prize in the air and catching it. As the microchip reached the top of its arc, I hipshot the AR with one hand, reducing the chip to flying splinters; the T-1000 proceeded to lean in and beat me to death, but I remember waking up feeling like I'd won.

Then, later, dozing while the Today show was playing on the edge of hearing, they were doing a little piece on why kids are afraid of Santa. And I had this dream that when you took the kids to see Santa, you put them on a little platform, which was pulled up through a square hole in the ceiling, where Santa and his elves were waiting. And this square platform was attached by a rope at each corner to a single hoist rope, so it spun and wobbled aloft to bump through a hole barely big enough to fit it in the department store ceiling and I'm thinking "No wonder the kids are scared of Santa! They're thoroughly traumatized by the time they get up there!"

And then I woke up and ate breakfast.
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