Plop Plop Plop Thud

Today, I took a nap, and I had a weird dream.

I lived in a castle, but not a very fancy one. The rooms were like the ones you would see in very ordinary houses, but the walls were fortified, so that I felt very secure. One evening, as I was getting ready to take a shower, I heard a boom, and then, the castle shook.

A cannon was being fired at the walls.

They very quickly began to crumble.

My father and my brother came into the room, and we decided to run. My father said he knew a restaurant where we would be safe. When I asked him why someone was firing a cannon at us, he said he had no idea.

So my brother picked up Dante, and I picked up my rats, and we started running. Somewhere, whilst on a stone path surround by walls, a blast hit my brother's leg, and he had to stop. Another shell fired towards him, but Dante jumped in the way of it, and he just disappeared. I remember looking around at the place where he was, or would have been, and then just everywhere, for some evidence that he had existed, and there wasn't anything.

Next thing I knew, I was being asked to win a race, and when I did not, I was chastised, and told that if I couldn't win one that simple, I would never amount to anything.

Finally, I found myself in a bookstore, like Barnes and Noble, but it was very dark and claustrophobic. There was a room that had even less lighting, with what appeared to be toys and very comfortable seating, but a door chain kept me from opening it. When I tried to break it, something warned me not to. I don't know where it came from.

There were authorities there, that make me think of the police in those cartoons where the characters go to alternate representations of their world. The kind that penalize you for really stupid things that no one really cares about. Here, the authorities yelled at me and the person I was with for wandering into the corners, for putting a book back in the wrong place, and something else. He gave us a ticket, and told us we were a shame to our families. He looked at me whilst he said it.

Then I woke up.

As David Lloyd, my creative writing professor, would say, there's a story in that, somewhere.