Never had so many fantasy-type dreams in one night, nor so many that i could easily interpret. Usually my remembered dreams are dark and messy, with no clear conclusions and manifold interpretations. These were different.
PART ONE - the most important part, probably. Don't remember it at all, except that it was bloody and it didn't end well.
PART TWO - i am a mother dragon, an enormous golden wyvern, shielding her young from human aggressors chasing her in huge floating ships. This is pretty clearly from the book i'm writing now, except my kongamato aren't dragons. The moon is bright and full. We don't have a chance, and this scene doesn't last long.
PART THREE - pounding techno beat, sort of a DUM DUM DUM da-da-da-da DUM DUM DUM thing, wakes me from exhausted sleep. I pull on some running pants, sling a towel over my shoulder and head outside. (Am i going to exercise? Some martial arts routine? It seems strange, but in light of what i soon find out i am, it seems quite likely.)
The pounding rhythm, literally shaking the walls, does not strike me as unusual. It's just another early morning disturbance in a place where disturbance is the only routine. It's with this thought that i suddenly realise i am a superhero, some kind of X-Man, and the place is a version of the School for Gifted Youngsters. It is all made of some cool ferroconcrete thing in an Israeli style, rather than polished oak and parquet floors like the normal X-Men's adventures, but i know what it is.
I can't tell who i am, or what my powers are. Not one of the characters from the comics, surely. And obviously not one of the more intelligent X-Men, damnit. No, i am one of the stolid, fearless, dumb-ass leaders the X-Men are always picking, on his dumb-ass way to his morning workout. How can i be the sort of guy who actually has a morning workout? This dream is fucked UP, man.
I go downstairs to the front door, not much fussed about anything, with the wall-pounding rhythm getting ever stronger. Some adolescent coming into the peak of his powers, i think. In typical Marvel jump-on-the-bandwagon fashion, they will probably call him Tekno or Fader or something. (Yes, i'm breaking the fourth wall in my dream. This is getting oddly Bugs Bunnyish).
It's only when i get to the door and see bursts of energy coming from the treeline that i realise something is up. The pounding is coming in time with the volleys of fire blistering away at the compound's walls. I duck to the side, looking out through small round windows to find the source of the fire. Immediately the energy bursts start to drift towards the porthole, and i realise that they must have some sort of motion detection.
"Sentinels," i hiss to myself in manly superhero think-out-loud style. I crouch beneath the row of portholes, looking around. Shots are now zinging through two portholes right over my head, gouging out chunks of concrete that spall all around the corridor. It can't be long before one of the spalls hits me or the energy volleys eat through the wall, and that will pretty much be the end. And so it is, as the dream fades away while i try to work out why no one else is around. The screaming of the energy shots turns into my daughter yelling for me to come downstairs. At least this time i don't have to watch myself die. Being a dead mother dragon was a real downer.