"...ran at me with a combat knife. I ran to meet her with my... nail clippers..."

My posting has been so infrequent, I finally think I've found, because I don't want to write these last 10 or so pages of content. After I am done with these 10 or so pages, I have but two tests to consider, and then I am left DeKalb for almost four months.

I've been dreaming vividly since I handed in my final PHIL101 paper on Thursday. Earlier dreams have completely faded, and I should have transcribed them those mornings I now realize, but some still remain.

Thinking hard, now, I realize all but the two from last night have left me--and I am sure there were two the night before. It is unfortunate I lost them, I think, as I remember awaking pleasant... ah, now I remember one from the other night.

Oddly enough, a scene from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is strangely similar to what I remember from this dream, even though I saw said film after said dream. There was a young child with a strong resemblance to Gary Coleman. He was an extremely talented LEGO builder. In fact, he was one of the few recipients of the prized LEGO plant: his home had a greenhouse in which these plants grew, producing a rainbow litany of colored LEGO bricks, of all shapes and sizes, all varieties.

He build a replica of the dinobot baby from Transformers--the one that I don't think exists. It was kind of egg-like. This led to him being invited, along with his mother, to appear on a game show. Obviously, the game show hosts were evil bastards, and they put the kid's mother in the teapot of doom--only if he won the game would she survive. Or, I guess, he could try what he did, and use the laser pistol they gave him against the hosts and save his mom himself, which worked surprisingly well.

Dream two started with an invitation--either to a general party held in a classy mexican restaurant akin to a fish-and-chips place I've been to in Toronto, or to a high-school reunion in the same location. Cast was mostly standard, plot saw me philosophizing against my high-school love interest, myself so immensely disappointed with her companion and subsequent (standard) adventures than other woefulness.

Dream three is probably as close to a standard nightmare as I have come in a very long while. The scenario depresses me at the unfairness of it all, though it has done little in actually scaring me.

It ended up, through early dream sequencing or elsewise, that there were two parties--or, perhaps more aptly, squadrons. I lead one, and the other was a nameless entourage of slightly-familiar faces. In effect, all of my cohorts were nameless, all slightly resembling people I care about in one way or another.

We didn't split up until later, though, and we began by exiting a forest at night directly into a residential suburban backyard. The tone of the colors, and the lack of moonlight gave some indication that this was not something I was in control of--we were all on full-alert, prepared to fight something. Some of us had minor weapons, but not all of us.

We broke into the house. I told two women to gather some supplies from a toolshed. We were expecting company. When the women returned, sadly with only but a spindle of steel wire and a box of nail-clippers, was when our groups split up. Mine stood in a kitchen of sorts, and those of us five who had weapons gave ours to the other five--they would make their way to the front of the house. We began cutting the steel wire into small sections, as make-shift spikes, and each of us equipped a nail clippers, folding out the half-inch "blades."

Gunfire, shouting, bodies hitting the floor. I never saw exactly what happened to the other group, but had a stomach-churning sensation that, yes, all of them were dead--especially her, the most familiar looking one. In the seconds before our attackers burst through a shutter-door into the kitchen, I wondered why I didn't make her stay with my group.

But burst through they did--Goth-dressed teens, from the looks. Black leather, albino skin (possibly make-up), black lipstick, short hair... eyeliner... and a seedy kind of cologne/perfume.

I never was able to count just how many there were--four or six, maybe many more, but my group was clearly outmatched. A woman, with a black leather studded collar, ran at me with a combat knife. I ran to meet her with my... nail clippers... and after one swipe knew precisely how outmatched we were.

So I gave an order to fall back and we ended up in a garage. By now, only three of us were still standing. Maybe I had lost an arm, too, or maybe it was the guy next to me. They had guns and real blades, we had wire and nail clippers. In the garage, we found make-shift throwing-kinves (tools that kind of worked that way) and one sharpened steel rod, but it was still nothing to counter gunners with.

I probably died. I was so disappointed by then, though, that I woke up, and started rethinking the dream--I gave my companions better weapons, for one.

Monday and Tuesday will be busy, and perhaps Wednesday morning will be as well. There are many things I mean to start doing as soon as the semester finally ends. At the rate I've been playing it, I will have finished King's Field 2 by then, and maybe Valkyrie Profile as well (if things slow down again next weekend).

Rites and such. Lots of thinking about Iceland. I very much want to study in Reykjavik a year or two, or perhaps three, from now.