For some reason I was in my old trailer in Troy Villa. The main door was open, the screen door was closed. I was seated at a computer next to the door, and I could see the overcast skies through the door. Behind me was Mike Shapiro, on another computer. To my right, another person. We all worked feverishly to code something. People kept coming to the door and asking questions about Joe the Circle, and I would have to stop what I was doing to look in a guide to answer them.
At some point, the dream turns into me looking for a hat to buy to wear to a very snooty ball. I find a nice purplish black one. I show it to my brother.
Dream moves on – two fighting neighbors, male and female. The man rips up her garden in the middle of the night, she retaliates by ripping up his rotating clothesline. They get chased into the woods by demons or something, rush to a river, and hop in a boat. Over the length of the trip, the two go through the usual, “We hate each other, but due to dire circumstances, we fall in love,” routine. In the boat, they realize that behind them is demons and death, and ahead of them is waterfall and death. They decide to fuck. In the boat.
Why must they fuck in my boat?
I was using the boat to get across the river and make it into town to fight the damned, but now with these two fuckers in the boat, I was inclined to put it right over the edge of the waterfall.
And I did.
As we went over the edge, I jumped off the boat. I glided a bit before I fell totally, and I landed softly in a shallow portion of the river, and walked to the road. (Did I have wings?)
I walked into town, it was a modern town, electric street lamps and all. I walked into the shop to get my weapons and armor repaired. They needed to keep them for a bit, because they weren’t as skilled as they’d like to be. They hadn’t seen an adventurer in ages in that town.
So I’m a rare breed. I was a Diablo II assassin. Yay.
I hear someone screaming for help from outside. I say a quick, “Pardon me,” to the armorer, and bolt out the door. There’s someone in the water, being rushed away by the current. I dove in without a second thought and attempted to guide myself through the current to rescue him. We were tossed and turned and tumbled, but I finally got him out.
We were miles away from town, and he asked, “How are we going to get there?
I just said, “Townportal.” and opened one. He went through, and the dream faded out.
I’m back at a computer desk, but this time, I’m in a more comfortable seat in a cubicle, and I was facing away from my computer, talking to people. One was hanging on the corner of my cubicle, male (he had dark hair). Another was leaning on my desk to my right (she had blonde hair), and a third was at her receptionists desk (she had purple hair.)
They all complemented me on my work, my stories. The blonde one asks about my hair, and I mention something along the lines of, “I’m thinking of dying it blue now that I’m out here.”