Life! Death! PRIZES! (Part One)

Recently I've been working at a construction site up in the mountains. No really, actual work. The kind that my puny arms are unaccustomed to. I've helped lay down pipes for a septic system and shoveled gravel well into 8 PM, only to return home tired and sore. I can't complain though, it's fulfilling work and it's good to know that if I exert myself I actually can do physical things like lifting and carrying heavy things with reasonable competence. Plus, it's effect on my sleep schedule is..interesting. For the first time in a long time I've actually gone to bed at a normal time and have woken up prompted by an outside influence. Essentially, my personal bubble hasn't been popped, but has mutated to accommodate this strange new world I've come to inhabit. Now, my dreams are starting to reflect this...

It all started three days ago when I started working. For the first time in a long time I felt legitimately tired when going to bed. My body ached and the constant stream of white-noise in my brain seemed to have all but vanished for the first time. I was well and truly exhausted. The stage was set for a hideous change, one that would set the cornerstone for the coming dream-quest...

I was in a bowling convention in Southern France. The Sun is shining high in the bright midday sky; a deep, vibrant blue, as clear and dazzling as the Mediterranean Sea which greeted us in long rolling crests on the nearby rocks. The mood is one of quiet dignity. The smell of freshly cut grass mingles with the cool mist from the ocean, all under the warm glow of the Sun. Nearby is a table with a spread of tiny sandwiches on tooth picks. I'm wearing a white suit and panama hat as a stole across the lawn. Next to me is an old friend, we laugh and joke about the past when he asks me to come live at his vineyard in Nice. I decline, telling him that I will never leave my beloved home of Algeria.

The park was surrounded by an idyllic city; a synthesis of ancient white-washed mansions and ultra-modern geometric constructions in glass and steel. As if someone turned the Louvre into an entire city. It was all so tranquil, dignified.

Suddenly my vision turns black and the entire convention disappears. In the distance is a bright white light. The rumble of a large engine fills my ears as I realize I'm in a long concrete tunnel, quickly reaching the end. I'm blinded by the light as I leave. That's when I realize it: I've hijacked an armored humvee and was quickly barreling towards a large group of people in a crowded downtown park. I man the machine gun on top, never stopping to question who, or what, is actually controlling the rolling death-wagon.

Without hesitation, I open fire. The air explodes with the sound of gunfire as the crowd flees in terror. They drop like flies as the humvee smashes park benches and crushes tiny dogs under it's enormous tires. Not once do I question this sudden rampage, I'm too busy reveling in the unadulterated destruction.

But just as suddenly as the killing spree began, a swarm of police cars start to chase us. The humvee flees the city and makes a mad dash to the desert. I can't control the war machine, I can only fire at the pursuing police cars, watching them as they're engulfed in tremendous fireballs as we flee. The city gives way to a tidal wave of blood, which gives way to the desert.

The humvee dissipates, leaving me to run for safety in the mountains among the dunes and shifting sands. The once bright sun rolls lazily along the horizon, now a deep blood-red, like a sore bruise. In the distance I see a shack built into the side of the mountain, with naught but a rickety wooden staircase leading up to it. The police are in hot pursuit and I feel by blood begin to boil. My eyes feel like they're about to explode as I leap across the sand and up the steps of splintered sundry steps.

I tear open the screen door of the shack and scramble inside. It's a tiny dilapidated office. Without thinking I scramble on top of a filing cabinet. Foaming at the mouth and convulsing, I sit there for what feels like hours. Suddenly, a police man barges in. He takes one look at me and his face contorts into a look of disgust and shame. He shakes his head and simply walks out, gun still primed to fire. That's when I realize it: I've turned into a giant worm creature.

Using my hideous lamprey-like mouth, I bite him in half and start thrashing around the room. I crush everything with my long slimy body in a mindless, animalistic display. That's when it get's weird.

During my hissy-fit a bunch of meddling kids wander by. I hear them talking outside about how they're going to take me to their older brother. I'm infuriated by this. I don't know how, but soon enough they are all dead. Exterminated. I don't question it, because obviously I now have unlimited worm-creature powers. Of course with great power comes great responsibility: that's when I realize that I'm quickly giving birth to an endless stream of squirming worm-spawn.

"This is disgusting." I think to myself as I look down at my ever-growing pile of worm children, "I'm not even a lady!"

















The dream ends as I start having a freakout at the prospect of becoming a mother. When I wake up I sincerely believe my bed is full of worms.

Tune in tomorrow for the next installment in Dream-Quest 2: Electric Bungaloo...