Glorious sleep brought some other things with it

I just slept for 20 hours or so and would have awoken well rested had
nearly the entire duration been spent stuck in a nightmare, instead I
had woken up thankful to be alive. This was not any ordinary nightmare
- it was one which after waking up and essentially getting over it -
is ultimately badass.

Show of hands, how many people here can honestly say they've had a
dream in which they are a Transformer (robots in disguise variety) and
are being chased/attacked by a Dinosaur (Apatosaurus gone
carnviorous(oh my god... Brontosaurus doesn't exist?!)) which can
change it's shape so that it could follow me through doorways and
such.

I recall two sections of the dream most vividly;

Having my kind of back area caught in its teeth as I ran under it,
with it throwing me up in the air to catch me in it's mouth on the way
down. Can't explain how or why but I shot it in the mouth with some
kind of laser weapon. It shut it's mouth.

The very moment I discovered the fucker could change size/shape. I had
transformed in a Lamborghini Murcielago and was speeding along a road
and into a tunnel. I screeched to a halt thinking I was safe to stay
in the tunnel only to observe the animal not even break stride. One
second it was too big the next second it was in the tunnel. Hard to
believe a creature so adaptable could ever become extinct. Far more
likely it now lives underground.

I honestly dislike it when people diarize their dreams. But I just had
to get this one out of the system. It's proof that my mind is becoming
more awesome by the second.

-Matt

Somebody else's morning

He hadn't slept all night, not through the labour of any particular
deadline - although there were many. A dusk through dawn spent not
fighting to stay awake but simply forgetting to sleep.

The house awakens around him, moves slowly for a while and leaves.
Still stationary. Same place, same task. It's 4 hours before he
decides it's time to eat, the decision to head out for food made
easily after a quick inspection of the microwave meals icing over in
the back of the refrigerator. Meal X. The same he'd had every day for
weeks.

An old woman necking a can of cheap beer, a youth in sportswear on a
bicycle far too small for him. A group of 8 year olds waiting outside
a police station. Everyone he passed on his way to the high street
confirmed his suspicion that he simply stood out. Unremarkable other
than for being completely different somehow. Perhaps it was in his
bone structure or his swagger. Though far more likely - his skinny
jeans and boots.

The High Street frustrates him. to him everyone is idiotic. Tattooed
men with beer bellies standing alongside young girls pushing prams
filled with their illegitimate offspring. The shops filled with old
people who through years of this environment do not return smiles but
instead grimace, looking every bit their decayed suffering.

Big strides, weaving in and out of aisles. Retrieve food, pay in self
checkout - Always free, just like the credit card ticket machines at
the train station. He'd been unable to work out why for some time -
was the affluence here so bad that people simply didn't own credit
cards or were people just apprehensive to make use of new technology
whereby they may in some way experience failure?

The smell of meat plagued the way home. Meat and eyeballs of people
around him. Was this feeling he felt paranoia, a mere sensitivity to
the observation of others - the same he gave unto them. Or was every
bone in the mans body, his very instinct correct - He needs to move
the fuck out of this death hole.

And right now, he needs to sleep.