My dad or parents were with me, and we had, simply enough, not tried to drive on the outed bridge that's a 40-50 foot drop to another road below (one that's going the same direction as the bridge was?). One of the local yokels told us that he was impressed that we accomplished this feat of not plunging to our doom; there was a biker gang that (at this point, my mind went to the bikers:)
They (at least 20 of them) thundered about on their crazy bikes. They weren't bikes, though. The local told us that after having missed that bridge out sign and the...not-bridge itself- at this point the bikers go thundering onto the bridge that isn't there and crash to the bottom. But they're not normal bikers and they're not normal bikes. I am speaking of the motorized variety, though.
These bikers, having crashed to the bottom of this bridge so many times, have worn their spines down to the point where they had their lower body amputated, forming a...well, better if I just draw it.
A that kind of shape on their bottom. And uh, they did have arms. Um, they apparently were smoking- in a very voluminous manner- and their head or helmets were kind of polygonal. Their arms were longer than their bodies and had elbows, sorry, I'm currently running on steam until I get my laptop set up again. Because we all know I use um, photoshop, and never, ever use paint. (By the way, I did find everything! But for a few hours I thought I'd lost it. Impossible, stupid "you'd-never-figure-that-out-alone" details tomorrow!)...anyways, where was I before I did what I did? ...OK, they had adapted to using what I term "dual segs." That is...two Segway scooter bases- you know, the ones that have two wheels on a base with a steering column and you stand on them and they're self-balancing? They had two of those attached with a rod of sorts.
These would balance the bikers, and give them extra power, and they could grip the rod with their arms and supposedly control it. This allowed them extra shock absorption for the fall, thus, through process of time, every single biker had these eventually. It was a sight; the self-balancing alone was purely neat. They still couldn't make the connection between no bridge on that air I'm about to drive onto and the brake, but they adapted skillfully regardless. Then I woke up.
Before that, I had a Metroid dream! I forget exactly, but somehow, I'm sure Samus was there. I forget most of the details, except that it was in the gas city in the sky of the N64 Star Wars: Rogue Squadron, behind the main city. She was not a sk8ter (or morph baller?) grl this time. Today, I was watching Terminator 2 (the second half of it, anyways), and the scene where the Terminator has to die um, happened.
I felt my soul crush. "No...NO! No, it'll be OK- stay with us, it'll be OK!" says John Connor. I mouthed along with him, inserting "Samus" and [omitted for extreme embarrassment potential]" and "Don't do it!"'s of my own. Sad thing about being 18, when you cry and scream and kick bloody murder, your parents just don't care. Regardless, all the familiar feelings came back. Except Samus Aran did not talk. The room kind of looked like that, but her awenem ship was there instead of the lava. And it was in acid, and she had the gravity suit. The pink gravity suit.
Way to be a girl, Samus.
Then, I had to go to sleep at 4 PM or so. I had very little sleep, and well, there you have it. So I just had another dream:
Me and my dad (and my mom and brother) were driving on a road. We saw a lot of cats; evil cats looking haggard. One of them looked like Precious, my cat, so we stopped and I took a picture. It was eviler-looking, though.
Then we were home, and both of our doors were open, and my dad said that that "always worried him." So we went into the house like we were SWAT. Turns out, there was nothing here. So we then went outside to check our property, as some road graders- new, huge, silver, Light Suit looking road graders that resembled giant snails of that coloring and detailing- had run over it during their course of applying twin streams of caulking.
Nothing. But how they could hope that two streams of caulking would spread out for the 8-foot-wide graders is beyond me.
Then I woke up, and low and behold, there was a stead flashlight beam out right where we were going to look! It was light reflecting off of the car, but for a few seconds, the Terminator, those evil ED-209 RoboCop versions, a trio of raptors, and twelve chicken hawks were after me. "Lord, looks like I'm about to die, unless these seemingly allied enemies turn on each other over who gets to kill me." Then I saw that it was the car, and silently cursed my parents. I need to work on my subconscious cursing now, it's such a reflex.
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