Share your most interesting dreams

Last night – this morning, to be proper, since this was just before I woke up for the day – I dreamed I was Thor’s personal assistant.

You know. The god of thunder.

I kept track of appointments and people he needed to smite.

I met him when I was hiding out with my friends in a Dairy Queen. We were hiding from some kind of monsters, I believe, or just generally some people/things that wanted us dead. Thor came in from the rain to help us out, looked at me, and got a big happy smile. Everyone else was sent someplace else to sleep – “except you! Thor wants to speak with you,” said some old lady.

So I became his personal assistant. Apparently (and unsurprisingly) Thor apparently took some liberties with the help since I ended up pregnant.

It led to the following exchange:

“Er, Thor? What would happen if I had your child?”

“Why, then I’d have to kill it!” Thor grinned in his usual too damn cheerful way. “My enemies would use any child I had against me. Why do you ask?”

“…Oh, no reason.”

“All right! Don’t get pregnant!” He shook an admonitory finger and went running off to do something else.

I haven’t had such a weird dream in a long time. How about you?

I often have long, elaborately detailed story/adventure dreams that resemble the kinds of books like to read. I have often speculated about posting them here, but procrastinated and found reasons to avoid it. In honor of your thread, I will tell you my most interesting one. Now I swear that this story is entirely in the dream, I did not embellish it one whit afterwards. I know it’s a collage of a few clichées, but I didn’t write this, I just dreamt it. It would certainly need to be knocked into shape to make a decent short story.

My best friend and I are private detectives. We are asked to take on a job by a reclusive billionaire whose main preoccupation is running a series of residential schools/orphanages. They have a reputation akin to the Shriner’s hospitals for kids. Everything top-notch, scrupulously safe for the kids, with graduates regularly winning places in elite circles of business and society. They were, however, very secretive and isolated from the outside world, except for official agencies whose job it was to make sure standards were met and no hanky-pancky was going on.

Our job was to investigate a series of unfortunate accidents in one location in each of which a student or staff member had come perilously close to being killed, but always escaped with non-life threatening injuries. The police had proven ineffectual for whatever reason. I had asked for a thorough tour of the place before meeting with him to discuss if we were to accept the case.

During the tour, everything seemed to be legit, and all was very high end. There were no signs of any religious focus or cult-like activities. All the students appeared happy, normal, and well taken care of. The had no qualms about talking to us. The one slightly unusual thing I noticed was how seriously the students took their sports and hobbies, and how hard they seem to apply themselves to these activities. Also, all these extra-curriculars seemed to involve an object in free motion at some point: a lot of baseball, basketball, tennis, archery, horseshoes even, but also more esoteric hobbies like juggling, and even a game from my childhood involving spinning coins on a table-top, catching them and flipping them into cups. The kids seemed to be working quite hard at these, and seemed to be trying to concentrate more than one would expect.

The tour over, we are ushered into the large and sumptuous office of the billionaire. So, he asks us, what do you think of my little school? I replied with something vague and suitably appreciative.

Well, he says, will you take the job?

I don’t think so, I said, I don’t want to die, nor do I feel like dodging high-priced assassins for the rest of my life.

My partner looks at me like I’ve started spouting gibberish, as well he should, but our host is merely amused, and raises an eyebrow, motioning me to go on.

It seems to me, I explain, that you have a very expensive school here, but I think there’s more to it than that. I think you’re trying to develop or cultivate the gift of telekinesis, the ability to move objects with one’s mind. I think that’s the point of all these games the kids are playing. They’re trying to influence them telekineticaly. If we go home right now, my partner and I have nothing but wild speculation, which will simply be ridiculed if we mention them to anyone. But, if we take the case, and we;re pretty god at this sort of thing, we will either find you have been successful, or you haven’t. Either case works out with a poor outcome for us. Telekinesis would be a huge asset to whomever controlled it. From tricking out roulette wheels, to unlocking bank vaults to even untraceable assasinations, it would be a priceless secret, but only, and only, if everyone else is unaware of it. If it becomes widely known, then countermeasures will be taken, and it becomes almost worthless. I don’t think you could let us live if we documented it here.

But what if your theory is just a delusion, our host asked, as it certainly is, then what possible reason would I have to harm you?

Well, if we confirm that you really are trying to achieve this, and that so far you’ve totally failed, which, let’s be frank, is a lot easier than proving human telekinesis is actually possible, then I suspect you’ll be in danger of being cut-off by coughDARPAcough your backers, whoever they are. As big as your fortune is, I don’t think it’s big enough to run a series of places like this, not as thoroughly high-end as this one. I think your board of directors would kick you out like yesterday’s fish scraps if they knew how much was really going into this charity project of yours, especially if it was coming out of their budget somewhere. No, I think you are backed by some first-world government somewhere, and where’s there’s a civil-servant, there’s a bean counter right behind demanding results and value for money. If we found you were a fraud, then so would they, and bye-bye funding. Much better for you to have yet another unfortunate accident for us…

Despite my own growing nerves, was was freaking me out the most was that the guy wasn’t laughing hysterically, or telling me I was raving mad and to seek help. He just sat there, looking interested, with a little smile on his face, rubbing his chin.

Well, he said, you certainly have an active imagination. It’s too bad we can’t do business this time, I think I would have enjoyed it. Are you still willing to consider any other work for me? I might have a few other jobs elsewhere…

We got up. So long as it isn’t inside any of your schools, I said, and woke up.

I don’t normally remember my dreams very well, but when I have one like this, it’s like every detail is totally burned into my brain. Sometimes I win, and sometimes I get beaten up or killed. But it’s most often a whole story like that. I liked this one in particular because of the twist when turning the job down. A surprise twist like that almost never happens in my story dreams.

So, should I post the next one, when it comes?

I’ve had some wild ones. See for yourself: Here Here Here Here Here Here

Pretty sure I posted this one before, but anyway:

I’m at the home of some lady doing repair work. The lady is home, along with her kids. A fierce storm seems to be blowing in, and I go inside, preparing for all of us to take shelter. Massive amounts of thunder and lightning are happening, and the sky turns very dark. We prepare for the worst, anticipating perhaps a tornado.

Suddenly, it all over, I’m outside, it’s the next day, and I’m surveying damages. Trees down, that sort of thing. For whatever reason, I’m wearing my firefighter turnout gear, and while walking around, I discover an odd looking device which resembles the controller for an RC plane or car. Square, handheld box with an antenna, a joystick, a display, and a pushbutton. The display shows an aerial view of the area where I’m standing, and by moving the joystick, the crosshairs can be positioned over objects. Push the button, and KABOOM, a bolt of lightning crashes to earth in that spot.

So, I’ve got the lightning machine, and figure it somehow played into yesterday’s terrible storm, but who came up with this device, and how? Off in the distance, I see a farm house, with a barn, fenced areas, and figure I’ll head over there. As I get closer, I hear laughter, and it’s apparent that a group of folks are there.

When I round the corner of the barn, a baseball diamond is laid out, and a bunch of naked men are playing, but there’s a spin on the game. Instead of running, when a batter gets a hit, he hops towards first base, keeping his feet together, and hops three times before stopping and wiggling his lips/nose, as would a rabbit. Hop three more times, wiggle, and continue. Likewise, the fielders must pursue in the same hop/wiggle fashion. They were playing bunny ball.

There ends the bizarro dream. No pharmaceuticals were ingested prior to said dream, which is even scarier that my mind would conjure this up, sober. :eek: